


got my heartbeat skippin'

by peculiarblue



Category: High School Musical: The Musical: The Series (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, F/M, Falling In Love, Minor Violence, Pining, Spider-Man: Far From Home (Movie), Summer Vacation, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, gina is out of ricky's league and he knows it!, the spideychelle print i'm manifesting it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:35:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 21,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23264071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peculiarblue/pseuds/peculiarblue
Summary: when ricky was bit by a radioactive spider four years ago, he gained a lot of things: super strength, the ability to climb walls, speed-healing, the list goes on.super-powers did NOT include, apparently, how to talk to your crush without wishing the ground would swallow you whole. but maybe a trip to europe with his drama club could change that...(spider-man: far from home au)
Relationships: Ricky Bowen/Gina Porter
Comments: 8
Kudos: 33





	1. the greatest superhero i know

**Author's Note:**

> alright folks, we're back! take two!
> 
> thank you for all the absolutely wonderful comments and love and encouraging me to do this. i've never really written anything like this before but i'm so excited, and your encouragement really means a lot. action and crazy plots aren't my strong suit (i am usually a rapid-fire fluff machine) so bear with me here!
> 
> i'm following the mcu spider-man storyline but am skipping straight from hoco to ffh (all the avengers stuff is too much for me to jam-pack into this story). i'm also planning to put flashbacks to explain ricky's bacstory in every chapter, and i think the changes i made and parallels between characters and plots will start to come together as we keep moving. 
> 
> so, let's try this thing again! 
> 
> (title: i think he knows, by taylor swift)

When Ricky was a kid, his dad taught him his best trick.

_Close your eyes, big breath in._ _Count to five, use all your fingers. Then breathe out, fishy kissy lips, use that big gust of air to push all the loud scary noises away._

He remembers the first time they ever did it. He doesn’t remember how old he was, couldn’t have been more than four or five, and they were doing construction on the office building next door, just a few feet away from his bedroom window. Everything was so crowded in this city, and all Ricky could hear, his pillow over his face, hugged to his ears an hour past his bedtime, was creaking, drilling, a loud bang, some buzzing. Surely there were monsters outside his window, the closets in this shoebox apartment affording him the luxury of knowing no monster could ever fit _inside_. How ridiculous an idea.

His dad came into the room once Ricky had surpassed quiet trembling and started yelling. He had gotten Ricky to sit up, still hiding behind the pillow clutched to his face for protection.

_“It’s just noises bud, we can get rid of them,”_ _he pulled the pillow down and into his lap, Ricky’s tiny toddler body falling over with it. As he snuggled into the safety of his dad’s presence, he hears him say,_ _“C’mon, I’m gonna show you our special trick.”_

_“Special trick?”_ _Ricky is mildly curious when that’s brought up,_ _“The one you teach the superheroes at work?”_

_“_ _I don’t even teach all the superheroes this trick, only the ones that I know are big and strong enough to fight the big scary noises.”_

_At that, Ricky peaks one eye out from behind the pillow, he thinks he sees his dad bite back a smile,_ _“And I can learn it?”_

_“Yup,”_ _he dad said, and Ricky sat up, facing him, legs criss-crossed in front of him,_ _“Okay buddy, close your eyes.”_

_“Dad, it’s dark—“_

_“Just listen, hero,”_ _he says lightly, and Ricky obliges, shutting his eyes tentatively. His hands are balled up into fists, still slightly trembling, trying to not let his dad notice how scared he is when he’s learning the big superhero stuff. He feels his dad take his hands and rest them in his own big, open palms._

_“Okay, now take a big deep breath, all the air you can get inside ya,”_ _his dad continues, and he hears them both suck in a large breath, “_ _Now count to five, use your fingers.”_

_One, two, three, four, five._ _Ricky counts up in his head, putting a finger up with every count, feels the tension leave his tightly fisted hands until his palms are open, just like his dad’s._

_“_ _You got to five?”_

_Ricky nods, his cheeks puffed up holding his big breath in._

_“Good, now we’re gonna use all that air to blow the loud scary noises away, blow ‘em right out the window,”_ _he hears his dad say, and then he does._ _Exhale_ _. Blow them all away._

_When he opens his eyes, his dad is still blowing his air out, his lips puckered in a silly way that makes Ricky giggle._

_“You look like you’re givin’ the bad noises a kiss, Dad!”_

_“Well, you look like a fish!”_ _He yells back, and Ricky tries to squirm out of his reach before his dad grabs him by the waist and plants a big kiss on his forehead,_ _“Hear that? All gone.”_

_“_ _Wow,”_ _Ricky says in amazement, “_ _Can you teach me another one?”_

_“Not tonight, kid,”_ _His dad pats his back gently, laying his back down in his bed._

_“_ _But how am I ever gonna be a superhero if you don’t teach me everything you know?”_ _He says, genuinely concerned._

_His dad just smiles, pulls the covers up to his chin and fluffs the pillow under his head. He crouches down to his eye-level before whispering, “_ _You’re already the greatest superhero I know.”_

_He crept out of the room then, Ricky feeling much better and braver, and whispered one last time, before urging him to go to sleep, “_ _You remember that trick, alright? Get rid of any of the bad noises.”_

Oh, if only that were still true.

“Help! Help! Somebody, help me, that man stole my purse!”

When his dad said _any of the bad noises_ , Ricky feels he should have clarified. Did _noises he didn’t have time for_ fall under the _bad_ category?

_1, 2, 3, 4—_ Nope, still there.

“Help! He’s getting away!”

“I just simply do not get paid enough for this,” Ricky hops up to standing on the edge of the rickety fire escape outside his bedroom window, 7am, the morning of the last day of his junior year of high school.

“Seriously, dude, you do not want to talk to _me_ about not getting paid for this,” Ricky’s best friend Red follows suit, though he’s headed in an entirely different direction, slinging his backpack over one shoulder, “Being friends with a friendly neighborhood superhero is literally asking for chronic migraines, which I did _not_ sign up for.”

“You weren’t even supposed to know! I didn’t sign up for you spotting me from the fire escape while I was half-naked, changing out of my suit through my bedroom window but you know, we don’t always get what we want in life,” Ricky reaches through said bedroom window and grabs his makeshift mask, slips it on over his head.

“Yeah well, I let you use my fire escape as a secret headquarters and I’ve never asked for rent.”

“Because its _our_ fire escape, dude, we’ve been sharing it since I moved next-door to you four years ago.”

“Still, something doesn’t seem legal about this arrangement and my lack of compensation as official ‘guy in the chair’,” Red banters, as Ricky starts to hop over the side of the railing.

“Take it up with my agent, she’d love to discuss it with you as you walk to school to cover for me when I’m late to first period,” he quirks, nodding back into his apartment.

"At least Nini gives me breakfast, you just give me a headache,” Red dips through Ricky’s window to find the girl and walk to school, and notices Ricky smiling at him behind his mask, “Stop stalling, Spidey, there’s a lady getting mugged!”

“You know I hate that name!”

“And I love you!”

_Close your eyes. Inhale. Count to five. Exhale._

And the woman is still yelling. He wishes he could fact-check his dad on this one.

With a loud _thwip,_ Ricky shoots a web out to the neighboring apartment building and then, he swings.

_“Look, it’s Spider-Man!”_

He almost lands directly on an awestruck little boy when he finally drops down on the sidewalk three blocks from his apartment building. He gives him a sorry little wave before springing on foot the last few steps to catch the woman frantically screaming and fighting her way towards the man who stole her purse.

“Dude, if you needed lunch money, you shoulda just asked nicely,” Ricky quirks as she stops, shoots a web about five feet in front of him that snags the bottom of the runaway purse, the man holding it under his arm skidding to a halt, “I mean, I would have given you mine. Its Taco Tuesday in the cafeteria, and I don’t touch that mystery meat with a ten foot-web. But if you’re into it, Mr. Criminal, who am I to judge?”

Ricky hears someone in the crowd that’s gathered laugh behind him, then he pulls the purse back in his direction. He flips it over one shoulder before shooting a final web to wrap the mugger’s arms to his sides. Once he’s situated, Ricky turns back to face the frantic woman. He reaches out to her and sees all her features visibly relax with the purse back in her hands. He’d be shooting her his signature Ricky Bowen grin if his DIY-hero mask were not obscuring any identifying features.

“I believe this belongs to you, ma’am.”

“Oh thank you, thank you Spider-Man,” she sighs, opening the top of the returned bag and fishing through it. She suddenly pulls out her wallet, trying to hand a few bills to Ricky, _Spider-Man_ , in thanks.

“Please, no payment necessary,” he waves her off, “Just trying to keep my favorite city safe. You have a nice day, Miss!” He tips his imaginary top hat to her, then turns to the crowd, “Would someone mind calling the cops on this guy for me? I’d love to, but I gotta get to class, last day of school before summer vacation!”

And with that he shoots a final web, swings up and over the busy New York City streets and away towards East High.

He shoots Red a quick text with one free hand as he flies downtown (if that spider-bite was good for anything, it saved him a hell of a lot of time from commuter traffic, dumb city rush hour), **_be there in ten!_**

****

**_Dude,_** he gets a quick response, **_make it five if you want to live past first period, Mazzara is NOT buying my excuses today…_** It’s just another block or two, so Ricky could definitely do it in five like Red advises, but… he skipped breakfast to be a superhero and Delmar’s is _right there_ , a bacon egg and cheese practically calling his super name.

If it was anyone other than Mazzara, Ricky reasons, he wouldn’t do it. But that guy was a prick and a half. He swings down and stuffs his mask in his back pocket before pushing into the small sandwich shop.

The shop is nothing special at first glance, it’s old lighting and crowded shelves of chips, a hint of deli pickle in the familiar aroma, but Ricky knows if asked, he’d say it was his favorite spot in all of New York City. His dad used to take him here every Sunday, sometimes a few more times a week, or for a special breakfast when he would walk Ricky to school before an early morning at work, but _always_ Sunday lunch. He’s pretty sure if Mr. Delmar didn’t physically watch Ricky grow up from not even being able to see the gum display on the side of the counter to towering a good few feet over it, he would never have gotten away with the amounts of free sandwiches he’s consumed in the past four years. His bank account definitely wouldn’t have been able to keep up. Ricky was a teenage boy, and he had always been an emotional eater, so this newfound hyper-metabolism was not helping.

“Mr. Bowen, summer vacation starts _tomorrow_ , does it not?”

“But I’m _famished_ ,” he drops his head on his elbows dramatically on the ledge of the counter, “And breakfast is the most important meal of the day, especially for studious high schoolers, like myself.”

“Seventeen years and I’m still waiting for you to grow out of that smart mouth,” the shop-owner and friend runs a hand through Ricky’s floppy curls affectionately before turning to place his order he knows by heart, “You’re gonna give me gray hair, son.”

“Jeez, the disrespect I’m getting today. First, I give Big Red a headache, now I’m making your gray hair grayer…”

Delmar points as Ricky grins, “I’m gonna stop covering for you when the school calls to let a guardian know you’re showing up late again.”

“It’s their own fault for believing you when they know I live in an entirely female household,” Ricky rolls his eyes, hops up to sit on the counter as he waits for Delmar to make his breakfast sandwich.

The man just laughs and disappears to grab a roll for the sandwich, leaving Ricky to watch the TV while he waits.

And in a rare turn of events, Ricky almost wishes he had just gone to school.

Delmar’s almost always got the news on, some weird adult thing Ricky assumes you acquire with age, and this morning’s no different. Ricky could usually stomach reports on traffic and weather for the few minutes he waited for his food, but today they’ve decided to touch the one subject Ricky still hasn’t learned how to watch.

_Adrian Toomes seneteced to —_

Ricky looks down at his shoelaces before he can finish the headline.

By now it had been almost two years since Ricky became Spider-Man, and one since he fought his first real bad guy, lived through three near-death experiences, and apparently, thanks to today’s headline, put his first high school crush’s dad in jail.

There were normal teenage responsibilities and then there was Ricky Bowen.

He’s still not too sure how the whole thing happened. One second he was fine, relatively, just one step from failing AP History and getting yelled at down the hall by one of Nini’s moms to make his bed before leaving for school. The next, everything was different. He lived through the worst common cold he’s pretty sure the world has ever seen, only got away with skipping three days of school for it, and came out on the other side with sticky fingers and super strength.

It wasn’t until Red came over a week into his mystery illness with a poorly-made but very well-intentioned care package that he got the idea.

A radio-active spider bite.

Red sent hima bunch of comic books, because ricky liked the pictures better than words, and turns out, read enough stories about superheroes when you’re high on Tylenol and the impossible starts to sound possible.

He’d lived in the city his entire life, and never once heard any mention of a radioactive breed of arachnids, nonetheless the species being out and in the public, its bite being able to literally transfer _superpowers_. But there Ricky was, on the edge of the rickety fire escape out his window, so old and rusty no one ever tried to climb down it because it would surely collapse, but Ricky could suddenly hold on with just the tips of his fingers. Shit was cool.

And so, Ricky saw two options: freak the fuck out and turn himself in for the sake of science (because seriously guys, what the fuck?), or _close his eyes, count to ten, exhale._ Then climb up his bedroom wall. No biggie.

He stopped his first mugging in a back alleyway at the end of his freshman year of high school with two rapidly healed bruises, then told Dana and Carol he had taken a surprise keen interest in chemistry over the summer and went to a science camp to teach himself how to make spider web fluid, and finally, rummaged through old drama department costumes when Kourtney wasn’t looking to put together some semblance of a suit.

And thus, New York’s very own friendly neighborhood Spider-Man was born.

It wasn’t until late in his sophomore year when the Vulture appeared, and Ricky had to make a choice. He could stay low, keep helping find lost dogs and stolen bikes and minor robberies, let the police handle the illegal weapons network the Vulture had created, terrorizing the city. Or he could step up, become the only thing that could stop a super villain: a superhero.

_You’re already the greatest superhero I know._

Fast-forward through a high-speed chase or two, the Staten Island Ferry split in half and held together with Ricky’s own hands (and webs), and fighting his way out of a parking garage dropped on his head only to cling to the side of an airborne plane on the night of the homecoming dance, and we’re back to today— Adrian Toomes, otherwise known as Vulture, finally given his prison sentence. And if that were not enough trauma for a sixteen year old kid, Toomes was the father of his sophomore homecoming date.

Ricky is sure not even a normal superhero could handle all of that in such a short amount of time, and he’s just Ricky Bowen. Needless to say, he’s hung back on the superhero duties for a while, as much as he can. Since Big Red and Nini found out about the whole thing they’d been trying to get him out more. But it was _really_ hard. Knowing he had that kind of power and responsibility when really all he should be worried about is calculus homework? Detention? His life-consuming crush on the transfer student?

Their efforts were valiant, but almost entirely unconvincing. Not even in the slightest. Ricky knows he’d have probably given up the whole thing if it weren’t for his dad.

Four years, almost five, since that.

Ricky was too little to understand most of what his dad did, and never got to ask. All he knew was he worked for some sort of agency that helped real, live, _actual_ superheroes. Taught them about technology and tools, how to get places, and helped them learn to use all the best tricks. _Inhale. Exhale_.

Ricky’s glad he got one lesson in from the legendary Agent Bowen before it was too late.

He always wonders if his dad knew something. _You’re already the greatest superhero I know._

He’d also like to know when this super-secret superhero team would contact _him_ for lessons and training, you know, him being a real, live, _actual_ superhero and all now. But that’s besides the point.

“Two bacon egg and cheeses for my favorite customer,” Ricky’s suddenly snapped out of his thoughts when two silver wrapped sandwiches are slid across the counter towards him.

He clears his throat, and his shakes his head trying to clear it too, “Gee, Del, I’m blushing.”

“You’re lucky I told your dad I’d look out for you,” the man smiles softly, and Ricky feels like he’s back out in the air, flying, the air sucked out of his lungs, “And that massive appetite of yours, seriously, you look like you hopped out of a pot of my wife’s spaghetti. With the amount of food you eat, at least you get some exercise running to school when you’re always late.”

“What a short-lived compliment,” Ricky laughs, hops off the counter.

“Now move. And tell Mr. Redonovich I said hi, and my condolences on his never-ending headache. _I empathize_ ,” and with a wink, he waves Ricky out of the shop.

“You’re gonna miss me, I know it,” Ricky turns halfway out the door, “Because tomorrow, _I’m going on vacation_!”

He practically skips out onto the sidewalk, breakfast in hand and a spring in his step. Because Spider-Man could take lots from him, but at least he had this _one_ thing. A trip halfway around the world with his drama club. What could possibly happen on a trip like that?

* * *

One part of the “let’s get Ricky to talk about his feelings and keep being Spider-Man” campaign by his two best friends was getting Ricky to not quit the drama club.

When he first moved in with Nini before freshman year, he basically glued himself to her hip, not daring to interact with anyone other than her, or anyone she interacted with by association. Being the kid with a dead dad wasn’t the way to start high school and make tons of friends. Ricky knew people were either going to avoid him or be extra nice, give him the pity friendship. So he decided to make the choice for them, and avoid them all on his own.

But Nini was insistent, as only Nini could be, and made him come at least sit with her at musical rehearsals instead of just going back to their apartment and napping (which sounded so much more exciting in his opinion). After a month or two, the borderline-crazy director decided to put Ricky to use (“ _We can always use extra hands in the theater, Ricky! This is a community!”)_ and he figured if he was gonna be here and working anyway, might as well do something more enjoyable than making paper mâché props. He ended up enjoying the shows more with every one he did, keeping up small parts here and there and finding some people he thought might actually want to be his friend, genuinely. He met Red back when Miss Jenn still had him doing crew stuff, and he mostly stuck with him and their shared fire escape, kept his circle small, but he did like the club a lot.

So it wasn’t personal all when he stopped being able to come to rehearsals. It was bad enough that Miss Jenn’s schedule was insane, but Spider-Man’s schedule was just as insane, and soon, Ricky had developed a pretty pesky reputation of flaking repeatedly. Not like anyone really did anything about it, other than the occasional comment from EJ Caswell, the bane of Ricky’s poor and unsuspecting existence (seriously, he doesn’t know what he did to the guy, but he’s had it out for Ricky since day 1. Sure, he’s harmless, but he’s annoying as hell and Ricky’s still trying to figure out a way to discreetly web the guy’s mouth shut.)

He’d tried to back out completely after the Vulture incident because honestly, he didn’t think he’s ever had the type of emotional depth to deal with all of that and whatever crazy scheme Miss Jenn was putting him up to this week (when they did _High School Musical_ she made Troy _literally_ levitate over a basketball hoop, and Ricky _literally_ prayed a string would snap on opening night and drop EJ on his ass, but that’s here nor there.) But Nini and Red wouldn’t let him, saying he needed some sense of normalcy and something to make him happy.

And like his Dad had really been the only thing keeping him tethered to his super-hero side gig, the transfer student from the end of his sophomore year had been the only that actually kept him in that club.

If you ignored the mugging this morning, it was almost Ricky was a normal high schooler. With a big fat crush on the world’s prettiest girl (you can fact-check him on this but he knows he’s right. _World’s prettiest._ Hands down.) And suddenly he’s really glad he got stuck in this club, because Miss Jenn announced they were taking a trip to explore the arts in Europe, a whole week traveling through Italy, Paris, and England with his best friends. And well, he was the friendly _neighborhood_ Spider-Man, not friendly _several European cities_ Spider-Man. So he had no distractions, no excuses for the first time in a while.

“This is it, Big Red, I’m finally gonna do it.”

“Do what?”

“Tell Gina how I feel.”

“Yeah right, and _I’m_ gonna grow three more inches.”

“I’m serious dude, I have a plan,” Ricky looks down at his friend as they push against swarms of students on their way out of the school after the final bell on the last day of school. He trips to catch his backpack, afraid his mask might slip out when someone pushes him before continuing, a new determination in his voice, “Okay first, I sit next to Gina on the plane.”

“I’ll pretend not to be offended by that.”

Ricky swings a fist to hit the redhead’s shoulder, which earns him a laugh, but man, this is _serious_ , “Second, I bought a dual headphone adapter so we can watch movies together. The whole flight.”

“Okay.”

“Three, when we go to Venice, you know, Venice is like, super famous for making stuff out of glass, right?”

“True.”

“So, I’m gonna buy her a Black Dahlia necklace, because her favorite flower is the Black Dahlia, because of, well…”

“The murder.”

“The murder,” Ricky nods, finally pushing out of the mass of students leaving and catching a breath at the end of the hallway near the rehearsal room. He shakes his head and smiles, “God, she’s _so_ smart, and so _cool_. She told me she had to read this book for a psychology class at her old school, and it was so interesting. And one time after rehearsal we were waiting outside and she showed me this Youtube video about how this guy— actually, before we even got to that video we got distracted by this ad for Swiffers, it was so funny, did you know—?”

“Dude, you’re doing it again,” Red shoots a pointed look up, with a knowing smile on the corner of his mouth.

Ricky feels his face take on a bright shade of his best friend’s name as he tucks his chin and gets back to the all-important plan, “Four, when we go to Paris, I’m gonna take her to the top of the Eiffel Tower, give her the necklace.”

“Oh?”

“And then five, I’m gonna tell her how I feel,” Ricky fiddles with the strap of his bag, and adds quickly, “But then six, hopefully she tells me she feels the same way.”

“Oh, dude, don’t forget step seven.”

“Step seven…?”

“Don’t do any of that.”

Ricky tries to jab Red with the side of his board again, but he dodges it with a laugh, “Bro, I have spent like, _eight months_ working up the courage to even _say_ this plan out loud.”

“Exactly! So when _you_ can’t follow through, _I_ don’t wanna have to give up my plan to be a European bachelor—”

“A what?” Ricky’s eyes are wide, leaning against a set of lockers and laughing.

“Ricky, I may not know much, but I do know one thing: Europeans _love_ Americans.”

“Really?”

Red nods so aggressively that Ricky has a hard time believing it. He squeaks the sole of his shoe on the floor and continues, “Okay sure, you can… whatever, but I… I _really_ like Gina, man. Okay? She’s awesome, and she’s really funny, in like, an unexpected way, and I think she thinks I’m funny—”

“You’re not funny.”

“Yeah, I know, so the fact that she still laughs at my jokes…” Ricky shrugs, hopeful, and rushes to continue rambling, “And I would sometimes catch her looking at me in rehearsals, even when I wasn’t in the scene, and she makes me feel like— _shit_!”

“She makes you feel like shit? Dude, that’s not a crush that’s—”

“No, no, she’s coming over here now, just. Be cool. _Don’t_ say anything about the plan,” Ricky could not press how important it was to be so totally cool about this to Red in that moment, but he sure did try, his eyes as wide as they could get and his smile tight.

If Ricky could put the feeling of swinging between buildings on his webs into words, it’d simply be: Gina Porter.

Cue heart eyes.

Her bright and bouncy curls are pushed up in a thick headband, giving Ricky a full view of her smile, the way it scrunches up her forehead a little, the way even the awful fluorescent hallway lighting makes her glow, and he swears her eyes sparkle like a cartoon character. She pulls at the hem of her short t-shirt as she reaches the boys, and Ricky can’t tell what to do first: scream, re-teach himself how to breathe, or get down on one knee.

“What’s up, dorks?” Her teasing smile grows a little, not that anyone else but Ricky would have noticed the change, “Excited about the trip?”

“Hey, uh, yeah,” Ricky manages to choke out, real smooth, “We were just talking about the trip.”

Red perks up a little on Ricky’s left, “Yeah, and Ricky’s plan.”

“You have a plan?”

“I don’t have a plan,” he shakes his head awkwardly, eyes willing themselves to shoot lasers through Red’s forehead because wasn’t this the _exact thing we agreed NOT to bring up_?

“No, yeah, he’s just gonna collect tiny spoons while we’re traveling to other countries,” Red attempts a save, winking, and Ricky sighs heavily.

Gina shrugs her bag up on one shoulder and tilts her head to one side, “Like a grandmother?”

“I’m not collecting tiny spoons,” Ricky says in one quick breath, eye contact with the girl getting more difficult by the second, “ _Red’s_ collecting tiny spoons.”

“Oh, okay. Well,” Gina laughs lightly, “That was a real rollercoaster.” She mimics a big amusement park drop with her one free hand, and is it premature to say Ricky is in love? Because he’s _feeling things_. His heart constricts at the pure adorableness.

“By the way,” she continues, when neither boy can recover from their last three embarrassing statements, “You should probably download a VPN on your phone, just so that the government can’t track you while we’re abroad.”

“Smart. Yeah. I will definitely do that,” Ricky squeaks out, almost dropping his backpack again as he punches the air awkwardly.

Saved by the bell, er, ringtone, Ricky’s phone blares to life in his back pocket.

He doesn’t move, just stays staring, smiling awkwardly at Gina until she points shyly at him, “You, uh, you gonna get that?”

“Oh, no, it’s no one,” Ricky rushes to say, shaking his head fast, “No one important.”

“You sure.”

“Yup.”

“Okay well,” Gina sighs loudly, “I’m gonna head inside, Ashlyn said if I was late to this meeting and left her with her cousin, she’d make sure I get the seat next to him on the plane tomorrow.”

“Would hate to be the person next to EJ Caswell on our eight-hour flight.”

“Well, here’s hoping Ashlyn keeps her promises,” she looks at Ricky, the right corner of her mouth quirked up in a smirk that jumbles all of Ricky’s internal organs at once, “No promises for you though, Bowen.”

“Hah, yeah,” every bit of breath is sucked out of Ricky’s lungs, her teasing banter and smile directed solely at him is suddenly too much for his brain to formulate words in a language either of them could understand.

“Okay, well, uh,” Gina steps back on her heel and turns towards the door to the rehearsal room, “I’m gonna go let her know I’m alive.”

“Right.”

“You coming?” She quirks, when she’s halfway through the door and Ricky still hasn’t moved, his phone ringing again loudly in his pocket.

“Told Nini we’d wait for her,” Red fills in with a quick save when Ricky just stares, mouth opening and closing like a floundering fish.

“Okay, cool, see you,” and she’s off with one last nod, her curls bouncing on her shoulder.

Ricky is sure its safe to say there’s no worse feeling in the world than having a crush. And he’s literally had a cement building dropped on him.

“Maybe she doesn’t make you feel like shit, but _man_ , that was the shittiest flirting I have ever seen.”

“Gee thanks, Red.”

“I mean seriously, perfect opportunity to make a move and get her to sit with you on the plane.”

“Really feeling the love in my time of need.”

“You need to rethink this plan,” Red laughs, “At this rate we’re gonna be at step 300 before you can even look her in the eye, let alone tell her you like her.”

“You’re ridiculous, I can—” Ricky scoffs defensively, just as Nini runs up to the duo, “Yo, Nini!”

“Hey, did I miss the meeting?” She looks between the boys and the door questioningly, “Mazzara was making some, like, emergency phone call at the end of class which kept us late, but I think he just wanted to punish us for singing _What Time Is It_? before the bell.”

“No, we’re just discussing how hopeless and awful Ricky is at romance,” Red chuckles.

“Woah, woah, woah,” Ricky says, pushing up off his slouch on the lockers, “Nini, c’mon, back me up here!”

“Hmm,” Nini’s lips form a puckered pout, and she drums her fingers on the book she’s hugging to her chest, “Nice weather today, huh?”

“Oh my god.”

“Nini, you seriously missed his _worst_ attempt yet,” Red laughs.

“I cannot believe you two are my best friends.”

“It’s not personal, Ricky,” Nini rubs his shoulder soothingly, but her bright smile betrays her, “You’ve been terrible since kindergarten. I broke up with you after like, a day.”

“Not helping, Neens.”

“If I got past a microwaved Barbie, Gina will get past whatever dumb nonsense you just said,” Nini giggles, tugging on the cuff of his sweatshirt and pulling him into the room, “Or _didn’t_ say.”

“It’s like she was speaking a foreign language to him!” Red enjoys another laugh at his hopelessly pining friend’s expense, trailing behind them as they find a few open seats on the right side of the room.

Ricky tunes Red and Nini’s banter out briefly when he makes eye contact with Gina across the room. But maybe Red is right, and he’ll have to brush up on his English when he’s studying his basic Italian and French phrases tonight.

Because really, that smile wipes his brain clean.

When they find seats, Ricky’s phone rings again.

“Dude, _who_ is calling you?”

“It’s no one, like spam or something,” Ricky shakes his head and pulls the phone out from his back pocket to silence it, flashing the screen and Red and Nini, sporting matching concerned looks, “Some unknown number has been calling me for a week.”

“The same number for a week?”

“I don’t know, Ricky, that doesn’t sound like normal spam…” Nini takes Ricky’s phone from his hands to inspect the number calling.

“They called the first time last Sunday and I answered but it was just mumbling, couldn’t put any words together, bad connection or whatever,” Ricky starts, “That didn’t call again until a few days later, but I was asleep so it went to voicemail, and then every day since they’ve called at least twice. But I heard them that first time, its obviously a wrong number or a machine or… I don’t know. There’s no one important that could be calling me.”

“Three times in the past five minutes sounds important, dude,” Red impresses, seemingly worried enough for all three of them.

“It’s fine, like I said,” Ricky pockets his now quiet phone and sits back in his seat, “The _only_ thing I’m thinking about for the next week is this trip.”

And with that, Nini squeezes his knee reassuringly, a little smile on the corner of her mouth, just as Miss Jenn storms into the room.

“Okay, theater people!” Miss Jenn snaps from the front, chatter slowly quieting down around the room, “Settle down, settle down, I know we’re all excited…”

“ _But…_ ” Carlos says, tapping his feet on Miss Jenn’s left expectantly.

Seemingly caught in the act, Miss Jenn’s smile only falters slightly when she glances back at him, “ _But_ , I have news. Do we want the good news first, or the bad news?”

There’s a low grumble that passes around the room, everyone turning to their neighbors with mixed reactions.

Suddenly, the door in the back corner flies open, breaking everyone from their side conversations.

“Well, looks like we’re doing the bad news first,” Miss Jenn mumbles, gesturing to the group of students slowly filing into the room, “Everyone, I’m sure you’ve all met Mr. Mazzara.”

Ricky watches the STEM teacher join Miss Jenn at the front of the room, while a few other students Ricky doesn’t recognize fill in a few of the seats scattered around him.

“Unfortunately, some of our funding for the trip fell through kind of last minute, and we were going to be forced to either cut a city or a chaperone, which Gutierrez would never allow, which is a little too strict for my taste but, that’s not a fight for another time,” Miss Jenn says, hands clapped together and teeth gritted, like having to share this is physically painful, (which honestly, for her, Ricky thinks it just might be), “But, Mr. Mazzara here so generously agreed to come along with no cost to us, so… Everyone say hello to our second chaperone.”

The room grows loud with buzzing chatter again, Carlos voicing the thing everyone in the drama club was thinking, “Miss Jenn, respectfully, I don’t think bad was a big enough word for this news.”

“No honey, this is going to be _great_! He’s going to be bringing a few of his robotics students along to fill a few of our extra seats , gets us a lower group rate, save some money,” Miss Jenn tries to remain optimistic, but most of the kids can see right through her facade.

“Don’t worry, Carlos, ancient art museums aren’t exactly my idea of fun, I’m just coming along to help keep everyone in order,” Mazzarra interjects.

“And we are so lucky to have him and his students, we’re all in this together, right?” Miss Jenn hums, her smile exceptionally exaggerated, “It’s gonna be great guys, I promise. Have I ever steered you wrong?”

“Well…”

“Okay!” Miss Jenn shushes Mazzara, throwing one arm out wildly and stepping in front of him, “I sent an email with all the changes and details to you and your guardians. Read it over tonight and I will see you all at the airport tomorrow morning, 9 am sharp! Bring your appetites for pasta when we land in Italy and your always sunny personalities!”

“And your passports.”

“Yeah, but mostly remember to have fun!”

“They can’t have fun if they don’t remember to bring their passports—”

Most of the students take the bickering as a sign to leave before any real explosions occur. The news is wasn’t ideal, sure, Mazzara spent 90% of his day terrorizing all of Miss Jenn’s theater students in some weird personal vendetta, but Ricky supposes things could be worse (and he does love his drama teacher, but really, he’s not shocked, it’s kind of on brand at this point). They all really have been looking forward to this theater trip for months, so far be it from some robotics detours to get in their way, right?

Ricky slings his backpack over one shoulder and turns to Red to leave and get all their complaining out before departure tomorrow, but is only shoved by his friend in the opposite direction.

“Go prove us wrong, lover boy!”

“Make us proud!”

Ricky stumbles over the leg of the chair behind him, catching one last glimpse of Big Red and Nini’s giggling forms before turning face to face with—

“Gina, hey!”

“First day with those feet, Bowen?”

“Sorry,” he replies dumbly, regaining his footing in the aisle of chairs, now face to face with her, the room almost emptied out.

“You should get some practice in before we hit those European cobblestone streets,” she nods.

“I’ll get on that,” he nods, playing with the strap of his backpack, “Right after I finish packing.”

“You’re not packed?” She laughs, stepping closer to him, and Ricky almost trips over the chair in the opposite direction. He is nothing if not consistent.

“I like to live on the edge,” and when he says it, she laughs again (and Ricky’s mad Red is missing this cold hard proof! She thinks he’s funny!)

“I see,” she nods down to the lip of the small raised platform they’re standing on, “Don’t fall on me though, I don’t trust my first aid skills.”

“Please, I have yet to find a single thing Gina Porter is not good at,” Ricky smiles before realizing what he’s said, and then he’s suddenly fascinated with his shoelaces.

“Plenty of things I’m not good at,” she hums, and if Ricky had an ounce of confidence he’d have looked up in time to see her nose scrunch up and her cheeks flush, “Robotics, being one.”

“Ah, yeah, that was… an unexpected turn of events?” Ricky shrugs, starting to walk down the row of seats and towards the door, Gina right on his tail.

“Should be kind of fun though, only so many days you can spend with theater kids before you never wanna hear an overused _RENT_ reference again. It’ll be nice to mix it up.”

“And maybe Mazzara will get us out of listening to Miss Jenn sing opera outside every theater we walk past.”

“I appreciate a good Miss Jenn falsetto every now and then,” Gina smirks, passing through the rehearsal room door and falling in like with Ricky, “But yeah, maybe I could leave my earplugs at home.”

“Ah, I’ll still need mine, rooming with Red,” Ricky nods, trying to ignore the way Gina’s shoulder is so close it keeps very briefly and casually bumping into his, “You’re all packed?”

“Yeah, I’ve gotten pretty efficient at it after all these years,” she sighs heavily, but doesn’t dwell on it for long before flashing another grin over at him, “Even if I wasn’t, the Caswells are like, ridiculously organized. Ashlyn’s mom gave me like three different checklists, though I did not have any healing crystals or astrology diaries to pack.”

“Really, Gina? Everyone has an astrology diary!”

She laughs with him again, “Yeah, not much of a writer. But Ash and I did pick up some cheap disposable cameras to bring. For memories, and in lieu of astrology diaries.”

“That’s too bad, I was hoping you could predict my future.”

“Just for that, maybe I _should_ sit you next to EJ on the plane tomorrow.”

Ricky can practically hear Big Red screaming at him in his head, _now’s your chance dude, the perfect window of opportunity, just ask her!!!_ But he’s Ricky, and it ends up being nothing more than a dead end of: “I’d rather Mazzara. Or just staying home completely.”

“And miss seeing what robots look like _across the pond_?” Gina shimmies her shoulders as she attempts the world’s worst British accent, and Ricky almost chokes.

She’s! So! Cute!

“Nah, I don’t think anything could keep me from this trip, robots or not. I really need the vacation.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Ricky says, eyes trained on the ground, “You ever feel like the wrong person in the right place? Like all the responsibilities and expectations on you are just, meant for someone else entirely, you’re just living someone else’s life?

“Have you watched _Freak Friday_ recently?” Gina nods and it makes Ricky laugh lightly, “I think I get it. I’m always the new kid so I don’t think I’ve ever really known what the right place is. People are usually too scared of me.”

“You’re not that scary, trust me, a lot scarier things in this city,” Ricky sighs, “Maybe that’s why I’m so excited for this trip. Just, the idea of getting a chance to be in a place where no one could possibly expect anything from me, I guess? But another part of me just, doesn’t even think Europe is far enough from home.”

Gina nods in understanding as they reach the front of the school, pushing the doors open.

“Wow, that just got, _very_ deep,” Ricky chokes, stuffing his hands in his pocket as they step outside, grimacing at his second display of his awful conversational skills, “I just wanted to talk to you about robots and gelato.”

“I _do_ like gelato,” Gina smiles, making him feel infinitely better in an instant, “And talking to you.”

“But not robots?”

“Definitely not robots.”

And for a moment, it’s just him and Gina, making pure and unwavering, bright and smiley eye contact, without a trace of awkward or wanting to shrink into an imaginary hole.

Then EJ has to go and honk his fucking car horn.

“Oh my god, one second Elijah!” Gina yells, flipping the senior off with her right hand before turning back to Ricky, and squeezing his shoulder with her right, “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, uh, see you tomorrow!” Ricky calls as she skips off, his free hand coming up over his shoulder like he imagined the way Gina’s was right there 4.5 seconds ago.

“I see gelato and tripping on cobblestone in your future, Bowen!” she says quickly, brightly, before ducking into the backseat of EJ’s white car, her smile the last thing he catches before the car rolls away.

Ricky lets out his first real breath in the last five minutes.

“Look at him, Neens, he’s blushing!”

“Shut up,” Ricky nudges Red after he comes up behind him, Nini in tow.

“Should we make a stop by the Caswell’s to knock over her lemonade stand on our way home? Or are we over that phase, in flirting?” Nini giggles, teasing Ricky with an elbow to the side before skipping off towards the parking lot, the boys following closely behind.

“One more comment and I’m leaving you two to sit with robotics kids on the plane for eight hours tomorrow,” but Ricky finds little motivation to be upset.

After all, he did have a lot of gelato and cobblestone and feelings in his future.

* * *

“Mini toothpaste?”

“Check.”

“Passport?”

“Check.”

“Sunglasses?”

“Check.”

“Do you have more than one pair of socks packed, or—“

“Oh my god, it was _one time_ Neens,” Ricky throws 2 balled up socks across his room and into his open, and almost, finally, fully packed suitcase. Of course, Nini has been packed for a week, and is using her free time to pester Ricky’s own packing method. He busies himself folding another t-shirt and leaves her to scan the rest of her list.

“Watch that attitude, you’re lucky I’m here to _rescue you_ , Spider-Man. You forgot at least eight things before I walked in.”

“Yeah, yeah, I am so eternally grate— ah!” Ricky falls back on his bed when something flying hits him in the shoulder. He swats it off and picks it up to hear Nini laughing, very amused with herself, “Did you just throw a banana at me?”

“I thought you could sense it, you know, with your…” she snaps, searching for the word, then her eyes bug wide, and she points at him, “Your Ricky-tingle!”

“Oh god, it’s not,” Ricky huffs, tossing the yellow fruit in his hands, “That’s not what that’s called, never say that again.”

“So what’s up, you can dodge bullets but not bananas?” Nini scoots forward, closer to him on the bed, “Did you break your Ricky—“

“Nini, I swear to god do not finish that sentence if you want to get to Europe in one piece,” he warns, and she lets out a stray giggle.

“Seriously, Ricky, something’s up,” she says, looking at him sincerely, “You can tell me anything, you know that, right?”

“Yeah, yeah I know, Neens,” Ricky sighs, playing with the corner of his bed sheets with his fingers, “I could just, _really_ use this vacation.”

“And you _deserve it_ ,” she reaches forward suddenly and wraps his lanky form in a very tight hug, then whispers softly into his shoulder, “But you’re sure that’s it? I mean, you haven’t bragged about sticking to walls or making a parkour spidey video with Red for YouTube in weeks.”

“Everything’s fine, just,” Ricky sighs, “Spider-Man hasn’t been the most fun since…”

“It _wasn’t your fault_ , Ricky,” Nini reassures, like she has almost every night since last year’s homecoming.

“I can hurt people, Nini, like really hurt them,” Ricky says sadly, sitting up to face her again, “I know I have a responsibility to save them, but when does that outweigh all the people I’m gonna hurt doing it?”

“I don’t know, and you’re so ridiculously brave for always trying to do good,” Nini says, “Your dad would have been so proud. I _know_ he’s so proud.”

Ah fuck, we’re doing that conversation tonight, huh? Ricky tries to hide one stray tear, nudging his cheek on his shoulder.

“Do you ever think about what would have happened if I got these powers just like, a few months sooner?” Ricky asks lightly, barely above a whisper, his eyes wide and vulnerable, “If I could have saved him?”

“Do you? Think about that?”

He nods.

_Close your eyes_.

When Ricky was just a kid, his mom and dad fought constantly. They’d think he was asleep, his bedroom light off and his door shut, but New York City apartments aren’t made for divorcing parents, and he could hear everything. “ _Do you even want to be a part of this? Of this family? Of his life?”_ He’d lay in his bed, eyes squeezed shut, and do the trick, blow the bad noises away with a big breath. He did it until his mom up and left, practically disappeared into the thin air Ricky breathed out, and they never heard from her again.

_Deep breath in._

Ricky didn’t think about his mom much after she left when he was five, his dad was his whole life. They did everything together, Sunday sandwiches from Delmar’s, days they’d just ride the subway and get off someplace random to explore, late nights building science projects and pretending Ricky was really good at playing the guitar, bedtime stories about all of his dad’s work friends: the superheroes. Ricky’s life wasn’t perfect, but it kinda felt like it was. He had the world’s greatest dad, his best friend since kindergarten lived down the hall and her two moms surely made up for his lack of one, and he was about to start high school. Things were looking good.

About a month before school, late July, there was an accident.

_Count to five_.

Ricky doesn’t remember much of that summer, barely going through the motions. Turns out his mom really did disappear, even the mention of his dad’s death didn’t find her, bring her back. So Ricky moved in with Nini. His dad was always close with her moms, Ricky knew he trusted them more than anyone, and it wasn’t bad. It was comfortable, something familiar in the middle of a world where nothing felt right. His dad was all he had his whole life. He didn’t know what he did to deserve losing that too.

_Exhale._

When he woke up with unexplainable superpowers, Ricky didn’t really know how to feel. Was it a sign from his dad, that he was watching? That he’d take care of him? If he couldn’t be around to keep him safe, at least Ricky had the tools to take care of himself? Nothing made sense, but he tried anyway, knowing his dad would never let a superhero quit like that, so what made Ricky any different?

It was only a few months after his dad’s death when he got the powers, a few days into stopping minor crimes when Ricky hears sirens down the road. He flew there, swinging, immediately, and found a car accident.

Every muscle in his body froze up. _He could have saved him._

_Push all the bad noise away._

“I just don’t know what to do with it all Nini, there’s no rulebook, no guide,” Ricky shakes his head, “And the one person who could help me will never be able to.”

“That’s not true,” Nini says, tapping a finger to his chest, “He’s here, I know everything you do, you think about what he’d say about it first. He’s helping you be the best, friendly neighborhood superhero every day.”

“If I couldn’t save him, what’s to say I can’t save anyone else. What about you? Red? Your moms? I just,” Ricky sighs, “I have these powers but I don’t feel like they belong to me.”

“It’s more than any seventeen year old should have to handle, that’s for sure,” Nini tries, “I’m not gonna pretend I understand it, because I don’t, but I believe in you 1000%, always, and no matter what happens you will always be my favorite hero.”

“You’re such a sap,” he kicks lightly at her shin, feeling slightly better after talking about it a little, the responsibility of it all still weighing on him, the things he saw and did when fighting Vulture replaying on a constant loop in his mind, the absence of his dad never really leaving, “But thanks.”

“I love you, bug boy,” she kisses the top of his head, “Always have, always will.”

“Didn’t feel like it when you were throwing bananas at my face,” Ricky snickers, “What was that for, anyway?”

“For breakfast tomorrow,” Nini shrugs, “I know you’re gonna oversleep and make us late to the airport, so at least you’ll have something to eat on the way there.”

He laughs, and tosses the banana onto his nightstand, since she was probably predicting correctly, “I love you too.”

“This vacation’s gonna be so good for you, so _romantic_ ,” and Ricky contemplates picking that banana back up just to chuck at her again, “You know what, you should pack the suit.”

“Miss Jenn said we didn’t need fancy—“

“No, the spidey suit,” Nini gets up and paces the room, picking up Ricky’s patchwork, homemade Spider-Man suit.

“Nini, I just said, I don’t wanna think about that stuff this entire trip,” Ricky sighs, exasperatedly, “Seriously, I just poured my heart out to you about it and everything.”

“I know, I know, I just…” she purses her lips, “I have a tingle about it.”

“Stop saying tingle, Nina.”

“Oh, I got the legal name, huh, Richard?” She tosses the suit at Ricky before crossing back to the doorway, “Think about it, okay? And I’m not letting moms feed you dinner until you finish packing, so get on it,” she snaps out the door, smirking.

Ricky toys with the material of the suit in his hands, looks at it carefully.

_You’re already the greatest superhero I know._

Nope, no way, not this trip.

He had one plan and one plan only, to woo Gina Porter.

He tosses the suit back in his closet, and starts on a hunt to find that second pair of socks Nini mentioned.

* * *

Ricky doesn’t remember the last time he was on a plane, a real plane, not including the little airplane shaped ride at the carnival his dad took him to when he was little. He’s situated in a cushy window seat next to Red, his eyes scanning the runway from the open window in wonder. He feels like a little kid again. He’s actually going to Europe! For a whole week! With his best friends! Literally, not a single thing, not even Nini throwing another banana at his face on the drive here this morning could stop his giddy excitement at the moment.

Gina walks onto the plane.

Case in point: everything is _amazing_.

The aisle she’s pushing through is small and crowded. Ricky watches her ease up on her tiptoes to try to squeeze behind Kourtney, laughing with the girl as she struggles to push her carry-on into the overhead compartment. And she almost makes it past her, but not before the small piece of luggage slips from Kourtney’s hand on the ledge above and starts falling right towards Gina’s—

“Woah there!”

A pair of hands swoops in at the last minute, catches the bag just before collision, like a scene out of a rom-com’s meet cute.

“Oh my god, that was close,” Ricky watches Gina say, releasing her hands from where they instinctively covered her head in a crouch, and finally turning to face her knight in shining armor. Her eyes go wide and she beams, “Um, thank you…” she searches for mystery luggage-catcher’s name.

“Howie,” he says, like a walking toothpaste ad.

Ricky feels like he might have spoken too soon about everything being amazing.

“Dude, _who_ is this guy and _why_ is looking at Gina with googly eyes right now?” Ricky leans forward in his seat to ask Red, urgently.

“Oh, Howie? He’s cool, he works at my dad’s pizza shop, and he’s on the robotics team? I think?” he shrugs.

“ _That’s_ the nerdy freshman who delivers pizza?” Ricky’s eyes bug wide, because Red was surely missing something from his description all these years. Nerdy? This guy had killer biceps, a gorgeous, twinkling smile, and obviously, charm for days. Where the hell did he come from?

“Yeah, he’s great for business because all the girls wanna come buy pizza to see him.”

“Not _all_ the girls…” Ricky scoffs.

“No dude, _all_ the girls,” Red nods, “But he’s super cool about it. And besides, even if he wasn’t, I don’t think _you’re_ one to talk about his eyes.”

Maybe he’s right, but it doesn’t make Ricky see any less green. After Howie with his Twinkle Town smile and inhuman biceps helps Kourtney get her suitcase back up, he’s saying something Ricky can’t hear to Gina, and she’s laughing. Laughing! She’s laughing at him! She shrugs (adorably) and he smiles with a little tilt of his head (nauseatingly), then steps aside into his seat in the middle row, Gina watching him with a faint smile still, while she drops her backpack down into her seat 3 rows back.

Step 1.5 of the plan: hate Howie the Redonovich’s Pizza Guy. For forever probably, but at least until he stops making Gina giggle instead of him.

“ _Anyway_ , on to more important things,” Red says, unzipping his bag towards Ricky, “Its a nine hour flight, we can play Beast Slayers the whole time.”

But there’s only one Beast Ricky’s got his sights set on slaying right now… (or was that too mean? Maybe. Ricky feels kind of harsh, he’s probably a nice guy? Right? On second thought, no, probably not, he likes Gina so no. Definitely not.)

“I need you to help me sit next to Gina.”

“Not this again…”

“Please, Red, I failed on my own yesterday. I need you, my bestest friend in the whole universe—”

“But, _our plan_! Think of all the eligible European hunnies!”

“That’s _your_ plan! That’s a solo plan. Come on, this is _my_ plan,” and Ricky might as well be on his knees, he is _pleading_. Big Red sighs loudly and looks between Gina, talking to Ashlyn a few rows behind them, and Ricky, then back again.

“I have never seen you get like this about anyone, dude, and _Gina_? She’s only been here a few months, and she’s like, crazy intimidating.”

“She’s _not,_ she’s so cool, and smart and nice, and I, she just…” Ricky rambles. He knows the reputation Gina’s got, she mostly keeps to herself, except for the Caswells she’s living with since she moved here at the start of the year, and her aloof personality, Ricky reasons, could be kinda intimidating. But it’s never been that way to him. He likes her so much, she just, _gets him_. She knows what it’s like to be an outsider and she’s so easy to talk to. About anything. He’s been three seconds from spilling his super-secret to her at least 27 times in the months he’s known her. She’s different, and amazing, and makes every crazy moving part of Ricky’s life slow down. She triple pirouetted her way into his heart the second she stepped foot in the rehearsal room to audition (and he loves Nini to pieces, but if it were up to him he’d hand Gina every starring role on a shiny, silver platter).

“I _really_ like her, dude, she makes me feel normal, and I don’t get that a lot these days,” Ricky says, biting his bottom lip nervously, “ _Please_.”

“You owe me like, a million croissants.”

“Yes, Red, thank you,” Ricky beams as Red begrudgingly stands up from his seat, and starts to walk over towards the girls, “A billion croissants!”

Ricky leans up in his seat, his chin peeking over the back as he watches Red.

“Hey guys, uh,” Red starts, clearing his throat nervously once he has Gina and Ashlyn’s attention, “There’s an old lady in front of us wearing a crazy amount of perfume, and it’s kinda setting off Ricky’s allergies.”

“Oh, I didn’t know Ricky was allergic?”

“Yeah, it can get pretty bad, makes his eyes all watery,” Red chokes out, and wow, is he _the worst liar in the world_ , Ricky almost hides behind his seat, “So uh, Ashlyn, maybe, if you don’t mind switching with—”

“Ricky has a perfume allergy?” Miss Jenn shoots up from her seat, eyes wide and worried, “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help but overhear. Theater ears, can’t turn ‘em off!” She laughs lightly.

“Oh, uh..” Red shakes his head, looking back at Ricky who is turning a bright shade of flustered. Way to go Red!

“From experience, perfume allergies are no joke. Oh, I can feel his hives breaking out already,” Miss Jenn shakes her head, then starts the worst game of airplane seat musical chairs ever. And airplane seat musical chairs shouldn’t even _be a thing_ to begin with.

“Gina, honey, stand up,” she points, sliding out of her seat, “Red, you take Gina’s spot, and then Gina come take mine.”

What? What is she doing? Ricky’s brain is running a million miles a minute.

“C’mon Ricky, sweetie, let’s get you out of there,” she waves Ricky forward, “Seb and Carlos, you take Ricky and Big Red’s seats.”

As Ricky shuffles out of his seat and around Seb and Carlos, Miss Jenn stops, a comforting hand on Red’s shoulder, “Thank you, Big Red, for bringing this to my attention. Your safety is my number one priority,” she says seriously. 

Ricky stops in the aisle next to his new seats, plenty of rows away from the ‘perfume’, and follows behind Miss Jenn as they try to hop over Mazzara’s already sleeping form.

This was not part of the plan.

And even less part of the plan?

The perfect view between the seats in front of him that Ricky has of Gina sitting next to Howie, three rows ahead. Toothpaste ad guy is reaping the rewards of his plan.

“Hey, sorry about the mix-up,” Gina says, settling into her seat and pushing her small bag underneath.

“Oh, that’s okay,” Howie smiles, “I’m actually kinda glad you’re here. I saw you in the musical. You were amazing.”

“Really? Thank you.”

“Yeah, _High School Musical_ is one of my favorites,” Howie continues, then looks down to fish something out of his bag, “I uh, I’ve got a dual headphone adapter, if you wanna watch one of them with me.”

“Only if we watch the best one…” Gina says, a smile playing at her lips.

“ _High School Musical 2_ it is!”

_What a prick_ , Ricky thinks to himself, Gina doesn’t like _High School Musical 2_ , she’s told Ricky about how much she loves _3_ at least a million times—

“Good answer,” Gina smiles, and sits back in her seat.

Red turns around from the row in front of Ricky, blocking his view for a moment, and in good time because he was close to really having an allergic reaction watching that scene unfold before him. Red leans between the seats towards Ricky and whispers, eyes wide and distressed, “Dude, this is a nightmare!”

“Yeah, Howie and Gina…”

“No, Ashlyn’s never played Beast Slayer!”

Ricky pushes Red back forward, leaving his friend’s dramatics to his new seat mate, and instead looking for his own headphones.

Miss Jenn has been telling some story about Andrew Lloyd Weber on a flight next to him that he’s been mostly tuning out, until she stops with an excited gasp, “Oh, you have a dual headphone adapter! I was gonna screen some potential candidates for next year’s musical. We can listen together!”

The pilot announces over the speakers that their flight will touch down in Venice, Italy in eight hours and forty-nine minutes.

Ricky starts counting down by the second.

* * *

Nini’s moms had warned them about losing their luggage on the flight, strapped obnoxious orange tags on it so Ricky could spot it from miles to avoid just that.

What he had not been prepped to handle was losing his mind.

“Did you see Howie and Gina on the plane? They were watching movies and laughing the entire time,” Ricky rushes over to Red when they get past customs, not-lost luggage in hand.

“Dude, don’t worry okay?” Big Red shrugs, bumps a reassuring shoulder into Ricky, “I’m sure it’s nothing.”

Nothing? _Nothing?_

Ricky is just about to protest, launching into the 27-part list that he calculated, while tuning out Miss Jenn’s story about when she was cast as a tree in an Off-Broadway Shakespeare company’s production of “A Midsummer Night’s Dream”, on why this is the _exact opposite_ of nothing, when Gina’s redheaded other-half comes up behind Red.

“Hey, babe, can you hold this for me for one sec?” Ashlyn smiles brightly, handing her backpack to Red, who much to Ricky’s shock, takes it, and, _double shock_ , kisses her on the cheek as he does.

She sings a quick thanks, Red’s eyes turning into literal heart shapes as he watches her walk away quickly.

Ricky’s eyes dart between the two, “Uh, what was that?”

“What was _what_?”

“You and— and Ashlyn? _Babe_?” Ricky chokes out.

“Yeah well, we actually got to talking on the plane and it turns out,” Red chirps, and oh my god, is he blushing (???), “We actually have a lot in common. So, uh, we’re boyfriend and girlfriend now.”

“What happened to being an American bachelor in Europe?”

“Ricky…” Red clutches a hand dramatically to his chest, “Those were the words of a boy. And that boy met a woman.”

“Dude, it’s _Ashlyn_ , we’ve known her since were like six—”

“A very strong and powerful woman,” Red continues his weirdly passionate (yet, kind of endearing? Ricky thinks?) spiel, “And that boy became a man.”

“Babe?” Both boys look up at the sound of aforementioned strong and powerful woman, and Red all but skips off to catch her.

“Coming, babe!” Red smiles back at Ricky before he leaves, “Don’t worry, Ricky. We’ll figure this out. I’m basically a love expert now!”

Despite his initial skepticism, Ricky just laughs his friend off, stuffing one hand in his pocket and rolling his luggage behind him. Miss Jenn’s yelling wildly from the front of the group, something about getting to their bus so they make it to their water canal boat tour in time, and Ricky has to laugh again. Just thinking through that sentence makes him speed up to a giddy run, reminding him no matter what was going on in his lame excuse for a love life, there was nothing that could change how incredible whole trip was going to be.

(But if Gina wanted to kiss him on the water canal boat tour, he would not object.)

They arrive at the hotel 20 minutes later, bags up and enthusiasm for this trip ready to go.

“Looks like we’re here!”

Where exactly was here?

Ricky steps on his tip-toes into the lobby of… their partially submerged but probably not that way on purpose… hotel?

“Tell me _we’re not_ staying here.”

The floor is flooded, and everyone’s so busy hoisting their bags up to avoid water damage to their belongings for the week that they barely have time to take in the rest of their non-water clogged surroundings.

Miss Jenn, to her credit, is trying to make the best of their minuscule budget, commenting on the faded wallpaper and fraying curtains, and altogether avoiding the musty smell and dim lights, “Doing some renovations to the place, how nice. When _I_ re-wallpapered my bathroom…”

Ricky’s green sneakers squish in the puddle beneath his feet, and he curses out loud when something drips on his shoulder, “Is it just me, or is this place sinking?”

“I think you mean _charming_!” Seb giggles on his left.

“No, babe, he means sinking,” Carlos squirms around them, washing out Ricky’s skepticism with full-blown distaste. Ricky laughs and tries to avoid the next large puddle.

They make it past the concierge desk and start up the creaking stairs, “How’s your plan going?” Seb whispers.

Ricky almost trips, “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” but Seb gives him The Look, and Ricky’s never been able to resist the boy’s charm for too long. He purses his lips and bites back a smile, “ _Fine._ Who told you?”

“I put it together myself after The Great Seat Switch of 2020,” Seb sings, but Ricky knows his friend, and shoots back his own pointed look, “ _Fine_. I think Red told Ashlyn who told Carlos who told me.”

“Oh my _god_ ,” Ricky feels like sinking into the floor with the building.

“Shut up, it’s _adorable_!”

“It’s embarrassing,” Ricky whines as they reach the top of the stairs, “And even if it wasn’t, it’s not gonna happen.”

“Let me help you!” Seb claps excitedly, his suitcase wobbling before he sets it down on the dry second-level floor.

“Sure, you can start by making Gina ‘crazy-out-of-my-league’ Porter like me back,” Ricky laughs sarcastically.

“Oh well, that’s already done.”

“You don’t know that,” Ricky brushing him off, shaking his head.

“Ricky, anyone with _eyes_ knows that,” Seb says smiling.

“Okay then, can you magically go back in time and have Howie not join the robotics team?”

“ _Ah,_ I see, someone’s _jealous_ ,” and Ricky would laugh at how Seb tries to wiggle his eyebrows if he weren’t still so embarrassed.

“Oh my god, who’s jealous?” Carlos rejoins them, up in the corner of the landing at the top of the stairs, where the whole group is congregated, waiting for Miss Jenn and Mazzarra to return with their keys.

Ricky shushes him quickly with one hand, the rest of the students way too close for his excited chatter, “Be quiet.”

“How are you feeling after that flight?” Carlos teases, but does keep his voice quiet between Ricky and Seb, “Your perfume allergy all settled?”

“Shut up.”

“Babe, I told you not to be mean about that, what if he really has—“

“That was the worst lie Red has ever told,” Ricky says, and Seb looks less panicked as Carlos chuckles, “But I might _actually_ be allergic to Howie.”

“Oh my god there is nothing I love more than how dumb you are being about this,” Carlos laughs again and Ricky scoffs.

“Carlos!”

“He’s objectively being dumb, Seb,” he says, resting a hand on Ricky’s shoulder, “But the _more_ time I spend with you helping you pine from afar, the _less_ time I have to spend listening to Miss Jenn and Robot Man bicker.”

“Like I was telling Seb,” Ricky sighs, “I don’t think there’s much you can do to help.” Ricky lets his gaze wander a few feet away, where Gina is talking to a few of the theater girls, her curls bouncing on her back as she laughs at something Kourtney said.

“Oh boy, you’ve got it bad.”

Ricky nudges Carlos again to shut him up.

“Keep your heart eyes in check and let me do all the work,” Carlos points, dropping his bag at Seb’s feet before pushing through the clusters of students. He stops when he lands in front of one robotics team heartthrob, hands clapped excitedly under his chin, “ _Howie!_ I heard you’re a fan of musicals…”

Ricky shakes his head and laughs along with Seb as they watch Carlos enthusiastically chatter with the boy, blocking his every movement to leave the conversation and pursue another with Gina instead.

“Okay everybody, I come bearing keys,” Miss Jenn makes her way up the stairs, Mr. Mazzara trailing behind her holding their room keys.

“Are our rooms gonna flood like the lobby?” One of the robotics students speaks up.

“No,” Mazzara says, “But I would advise you keep your valuables up on a desk if I were you. As a precaution.”

“You know the saying,” Miss Jenn smiles brightly, “ _When in Rome_ , do as the Romans do!”

“We’re in Venice,” Ashlyn comments.

“Well then _in Venice_ , we get our socks wet,” Miss Jenn shoos the students away, “Let’s go! Drop your bags in your rooms, we’re meeting at the DaVinci museum at 3. _Vamanos_!”

“It’s _andiamo_ ,” Mazzara deadpans.

“ _Andiamo_!”

* * *

Venice, leaky hotel lobbies aside, is more beautiful than Ricky could have ever imagined.

The teens are left to their own devices to explore before any tours Miss Jenn has scheduled on the itinerary. Red’s too busy being smitten with his new girlfriend (it’s still so weird to him, Red with a _girlfriend_?) to hold his usual spot at Ricky’s side, so he instead gets dragged along with Nini and Kourtney as personal photographer. If Nini makes him ‘say pizza!’ instead of ‘cheese!’ when they take a selfie one more time, Ricky thinks he might ‘accidentally’ drop her phone in a gondola and let it float away.

“Oh my god, Kourt, look!” Nini drags her best friend behind her to one side of the large square they’re in, picks up a bright pink mask and holds it up to her face, “How do I look?”

“It is _definitely_ your shade,” the girl laughs. Nini continues to amuse herself, making faces in the small mirror, while Kourtney scans the rows of other colorful masks on the wall. She picks out a shiny gold one, “For you, Mr. Bowen?”

But Ricky’s focused on something past the girls, his eyes doe-wide and shinier than Kourtney’s pick.

Gina is dancing with a local performer in the center of the square, bouncing on the balls of her feet, head thrown back in carefree laughter. She twirls under one of the performers arms, swings to the music he cannot hear, and it makes his heart mimic the motion.

“I think we should put him in _this one_ instead,” Nini snaps him out of his daze as she shoves a new mask towards him, one painted white with bright red blushing cheeks, “Don’t you agree, Kourt?”

“Very funny, you guys,” Ricky sighs, exasperatedly, while his friends laugh and leave him with the blushing mask, “I’ll be right back.” He hands back the mask, and Nini’s phone.

“Where are you going?”

“Oh, uh, there was this shop, over in the corner,” Ricky shrugs, pointing back in the direction they had come from, “I uh, saw something I wanted to buy for G— grandma, _your grandma_ ,” he laughs shakily, swinging his hands nervously before stuffing them in his pockets, “Yeah, promised Lola I’d bring her something because we knew you’d forget, and uh, I wanted to get it before we had to go on that gondola tour, thingy.”

“Okay weirdo,” Nini laughs, “Don’t get lost.”

“Guess we will survive without our Instagram husband for ten minutes,” Kourtney waves him on.

“Yeah, yeah, love you guys,” Ricky says, all but hops on his feet before speed walking through the crowded square and back towards a small glass shop he had noticed earlier.

He practices his best ‘ _buongiorno_ ’ for the store clerk at least 15 times before even stepping foot in the store, his nerves already taking over. If this whole plan went to shit (which, was honestly looking likely at this rate) then he supposes her really could send this to his grandma. No harm.

He wanders around the crowded store for a few minutes, lost in the lights and colors bouncing off the walls. It felt magical, to be surrounded by such delicate and beautiful art. His eyes scanned rows of vases, stained-glass patchworks and hanging lamps, taking it all in until he settled on…

“ _Fiore negro_ , beautiful choice,” the shop owner holds Ricky’s necklace of choice up to the light behind the counter. Ricky hopes his grin isn’t too revealing. He packages up his little black dahlia necklace, and Ricky pulls loose whatever kind of currency he has, until there’s one the clerk recognizes. He slides the money across the counter and tucks the small gold bag between his fingers.

The Italian word for ‘thank you’ is failing him at the moment, his mind too crowded with hazy thoughts about giving his girl this necklace, so her smiles brightly, and mumble something as he waves, before running excitedly out of the shop.

Step 2 of the plan is in motion.

“ _Boh_.”

Ricky almost jumps out of his skin at the word in his ear, instinctively hides the bag behind his back, and with good cause, once he realizes the voice belongs to Gina.

“Huh?”

“ _Boh_ , it’s the most perfect word in the world,” she smiles, swinging her hands and clasping them behind her back sweetly before continuing Ricky’s path towards the square, “Italians created it, and I just discovered it.”

Ricky doesn’t have any time to process where she came from or why she had to choose _now_ to look _that_ pretty and with her voice sounding like _that_ , spitting literal sunbeams at him in the middle of Venice. He just trips over his own feet and follows her, mumbling, “What does it mean?”

“That’s the thing,” she smirks, “it can mean a million things. It can mean ‘I don’t know,’ ’get out of my face,’ ‘I don’t know _and_ get out of my face,’. It’s the best thing Italy ever created, except for maybe espresso. Boh is my new superpower.”

She gestures animatedly as they hop up a small set of stairs, and Ricky is so glad his feet are not failing him at the moment, he’s so busy reminding himself to _be cool_ that there’s little brain activity reserved for remembering how to walk, “Didn’t know you’ve been drinking espresso.”

“Ashlyn’s dad swears by it,” Gina answers, smiling, “Makes me kinda jittery though.”

“Oh, so that one day, when you walked into calc all, like—“

“We’re _not_ gonna talk about it,” she fusses, nose scrunched, and Ricky laughs. She nods down at the bag in his hand, that he has since forgotten about hiding. “What’s in the bag?”

“Oh, uh,” Ricky shakes his head, frazzled by the sudden question, but collects himself enough to just quirk his head and say, “ _Boh_.”

And my god, when Ricky tells you that makes Gina smile, that makes Gina _smile_. She bites her tongue between her teeth to keep from giggling and Ricky swears he could die happy right there.

“Nice.”

“Thanks,” he hums, as they slow to a stop on the outskirts of the square. The rest of the group is gathered past the center, outside the front of a museum.

“Oh my gosh, Ricky, don’t move,” Gina says suddenly, and Ricky obeys, only whipping his head around to face her, “You’re attracting pigeons.”

A few of the small gray birds patter over towards where Ricky has stopped, next to a small pile of some discarded bird food. He watches as flocks swarm around him, and giggles when one lands on his shoulder, forgetting himself. He only remembers when he hears a soft click, and turns to see Gina.

She’s fished out of her bag a little disposable yellow camera, and has it held up to her eyes, her finger on the top button. Ricky smiles as birds flap away around him, and Gina sets her flash off again.

“Didn’t know ‘bird whisperer’ was one of your hidden talents, Bowen,” she laughs, putting her camera back in her bag.

“Neither did I,” he shrugs, as the last bird flies off, “Was that your astrology diary replacement?”

“Hah, yeah, you remembered?” Gina laughs, and she seems almost, flustered? Ricky blinks and its gone, her confident smile back, “Figured this was something worth remembering.”

“Me getting attacked by birds?”

“Something like that,” she hums quietly, “C’mon, we better get over there before Miss Jenn thinks we’re ditching.”

“Doesn’t sound so bad,” but Ricky thinks most things sound a million times better when Gina is involved, “What about you?”

“What _about_ me?”

“What about things _you do_ that are worth remembering?” Ricky says, as they walk side by side back to the rest of the group, “If you’re taking pictures of everyone else, who’s getting you?”

“Oh, it’s no big deal,” she shrugs him off, toying with one strap of her backpack, “I like catching moments of all you guys much more than myself. I have pretty good-looking classmates.” Ricky tries to ignore the way her shoulder bumped his on that last part. Key word: tries.

“Well, you should at least get a few pictures,” Ricky beams, his eyes tracing the cracks in the stone beneath his feet so he can avoid looking Gina in the eye, “I spent all afternoon following Nini and Kourtney around with a camera to take a dozen pictures. I’d take triple that for you.”

“Alright, you’re so dramatic,” she rolls her eyes, but slings her bag off of one shoulder and unzips the top as they walk, then pulls something out, “Here, I brought two.”

“Seriously?” Ricky looks down at the small camera she’s placing in his hands, then back up at her. She’s doing The Knock The Breath Out Of Ricky’s Lungs Smile again.

“Yeah, for all your things worth remembering,” she lets go of the camera and drops her hand, her pinky catching his for a brief moment, “Uh, I told Ash I’d save her a seat on the boat tour, but I think she’s ditched me for your better half. You wanna take her spot?”

They stop at the back of the group of students, Miss Jenn passing out tickets around to everyone, and Ricky doesn’t think a camera could catch the way his heart flutters around his chest.

But he smiles, pulls his camera up to one eye, and catches half of Gina’s laughing face as she shoves a blurry hand into the lens when she realizes what she’s doing.

“You cannot possibly think this is worth remembering!” she squeals, dodging his second attempt before Miss Jenn arrives to their side of the group with tickets, “Don’t make me regret this, Bowen.”

Seb and Carlos spot him from the other side of the group, and give him two very enthusiastic thumbs up, smiles bright and heavy, so Ricky snaps a picture of that too. He puts his new camera and his small gold bag away before stepping up to the railing by the water.

“You know what we’re supposed to be looking at on this tour?” Gina laughs.

“Not sure, I’ll be more focused on tuning out EJ’s insult of the day,” Ricky says, pushing his new camera into his bag while they wait.

“If you figure that out, let me know, I could definitely use tips on tuning him out on car rides in the morning,” Gina glances to her left and finds EJ recording something, talking to all his followers on his social media.

“I’m actually very good at it.”

“Well if _boh_ is my superpower then I guess this can be yours,” she smiles.

Oh, if only that still were true.

When Nini and Kourtney find them in the crowd, Ricky is just about to brag about how well this trip is already going for him to Nini before she teases him with the blushing mask (that she _actually bought for him,_ for that lame joke). They talk for just a minute or two, Miss Jenn yelling at them to line up so they can get on the boat for the tour efficiently, and you can tell Mazzara’s already had enough of this trip, then Ricky feels someone tap on his shoulder.

He turns to face Gina, who crouches down after getting Ricky’s attention, “Look at this,” she says, her finger touching the now rippling water.

Ricky’s eyes follow the pattern, as the water starts to shake, move out and away from the pavement and then…

The water in the canal explodes into a—

“Ah!”

“What’s happening?”

“Is that—“

A tidal wave of the water in the canals standing hundreds of feet tall in the form of a very angry and terrifying monster?

Yeah, that’s exactly what it is.

Normal teenage experience, right?

There’s chaos erupting on every side, and all Ricky hears is a loud ringing in his ears, his heartbeat thumping, as he tries to do anything other than stand in fear and confusion.

_You’re already the greatest superhero I know._

Fuck it, he thinks, and is about to go full arachnid on this hydro-man’s ass, because he’s getting angrier and taller and his entire class is right in the monster’s line of sight, first to get attacked, _he can’t let them get hurt_ , when the second most surprising thing happens today, and a floating caped figure flies above head and shoots two bright green lasers into the center of the erupting canals.

_“Stand back, you don’t want any part of this!”_


	2. changes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look i want to preface this by saying this is the third story where i have had to write redlyn for plot reasons and i just... i do not like it... i apologize, but it must be done
> 
> sorry if this kind of feels like filler, we are getting to the bulk of the plot soon, i promise!
> 
> hope everyone is staying well <3

There wasn’t much Ricky remembered knowing about his dad’s job other than 1) that it had something to do with superheroes (a really dramatic metaphor, he’d always assumed, but given the present circumstances…) and 2) there was not an ounce of stability to it.

Long hours and days off, late nights or early mornings. He’d either go days sleeping on Nini’s couch or have weeks where his dad was home so much he’d forget he even had a job at all. Didn’t matter what it was, no day was ever the same.

But where his job was lacking routine, Ricky’s dad made ritual just about everything else he could touch. It was all the same: only one brand of coffee in the morning, one brand of toothpaste, sat in the same spot at the kitchen table for dinner, answered the final jeopardy question wrong every night. Ricky always liked to tease him for it, the walks to school, the Sunday lunch at Delmar’s, his sandwich pressed down as thin as he could get it, same text every night he couldn’t be home. Told him he was getting to be an old man, elbowed him in the side before his dad laughed and hugged him close to his chest, same every time.

There’s not much in Ricky’s life that’s ever really the same anymore, even if you squint. Everything’s a little off-kilter (except maybe his inability to string a sentence together in front of a pretty girl, good god he can hear his dad’s same line in his head) and so, when things get really bad, Ricky finds it comforting to remember one thing that was always the same. Brings him back down to earth.

He loved going to the movies with his dad. They’d go whenever they could, see anything there was, usually bad movies with the emptiest theaters. He remembers all he wanted for his tenth birthday was to see _The Lego Movie_ in the brand new movie theater. He’d heard they got those new seats, the ones with the big red cushions that leaned all the way back, and the only thing Ricky had asked his dad for was to buy them tickets to see that movie with a bag of sour skittles. _In real life 3D._

Had to be in 3D, he’d implored to his dad, it was the only way you could see it. The only thing more routine than their trips to the movies was that Ricky’s dad refused to see any in 3D. Glasses tickled his nose and after 20 minutes he had a headache. Ricky wasn’t buying it, no headache could outweigh the sheer _awesomeness_ of seeing Lego heroes, _real life heroes, dad,_ in real life 3D. And well, obviously his dad caved, wasted a whole 23 dollars on those tickets because Ricky couldn’t sit still and missed the entire _awesomeness_ of it all. His elbow kept hitting the button on his side so his seat kept moving and the glasses really did tickle his nose and he lost all his sour skittles in the cushions of those new fancy red chairs within minutes. It ruined the whole experience, wearing those glasses and nudging at them every 5 seconds. Not awesome in the slightest.

His dad wasn’t big on _I told you so_ ’s, but it was heavily implied when they purchased tickets for the following night. In real life _2D_.

That never changed, they never saw a 3D movie.

And for what it’s worth, it is comforting to know seven years after the Lego incident, he’s finally getting to see some real life action in real life 3D.

“Dude!”

“I know!”

“What are you gonna do?”

“I don’t know!”

Ricky blinks once. Twice. Wills this giant water monster to return to something flat, something avoidable and distinctly _2D_. His life was dramatic as hell, sure, but it was far from a movie. He backs up two steps, bumping into a classmate he doesn’t recognize, the screams of the people once standing unalarmed on the cobblestone plaza now echoing throughout the square.

This is a real life moving picture, but he’s not sure his dad would have loved this one too much.

Its a water monster, he’s got no other word for it. It towers above every building surrounding them, the waves of the canals they were just riding on taking on a human like shape, arms that could rival tsunami’s and a twisting body on par with a hurricane. Every gondola has been pushed haphazardly to shore, boats falling on top of one another as the water rises and falls around this… _thing._ Ricky feels like it all happens in slow motion, someone yells, he feels someone pulling him back with the group to find safety, tripping over poles already knocked down in the master’s wake.

Fuck it, he thinks, every movie needs a hero, right? In 3D.

“Red!” Ricky finds his friend in the bustle, grips one wrist and pulls him close, “Red, are you okay?”

“I’m fine! I’m fine, but _why_ are you just standing here, let’s go!” Red yells, another waves washing up by their feet, pushing the door to the shop behind them open with it. Red jumps at the sound of a loud crash somewhere past them and shakes his head up at the monster again.

“Look, I gotta do something, obviously, I don’t know what but—but I left my suit at home, so—”

“You _what_?”

“I’m on vacation!” Ricky yells, and pulls Red behind his back, nods up and hopes Red can hear him yell, “Get everyone as far from here as you can, find a solid building, not one by the water.”

“But if you go out there without—”

“Dude, it’s not gonna matter if we’re all dead in five minutes!” Ricky screams, pushing Red up to the bridge towards their classmates, staggering their way out of the line of fire.

“Ricky!” He turns at the sound of his name, sees Nini pulling Red up with one hand, clutching some object in her other, “Told you to bring the suit, dumbass!”

“Right now? You have to do this, right now?” Ricky balks, but catches the blushing pink mask Nini tosses his way that she’d teased him with earlier.

And well, isn’t it nice to know he’s got few things of his own that never change too. Girl is nothing if not consistent.

He’s just slinging the mask over his face, tickling the bridge of his nose, when the water monster springs into action again, slamming his foot directly into the wall of the building on their left.

Shit shit shit. It’s not like Ricky ever really plans ahead anyway, but a second to pretend he might may have been nice here.

He barely has time to make sure all of his classmates have staggered out of the clearing, a large boat flipping on its head where they all once stood. He hops over a pile of rubble and scrambles to unzip his backpack in one fell swoop, thanking some higher power that had him listen to Nini’s advice even partially. He snaps the shooters on adjusts his mask with a tickle, and then the lets the scene begin.

Water tumbles towards him the second he rounds the corner, and he watches as his webs fly through the air…

…and land 20 feet from him on the ground.

_Okay Spider-Man_ , he paces, coaching himself, water monster headed towards a bridge full of people and absolutely nothing his spider skills can do about it. Gotta get creative here.

“Alright, you’re not gonna stick to water?” He shakes his wrists and runs towards the canals, “Let’s find something yo hold on to.”

Ricky jumps up and runs across the blue and white striped poles lining the sides of where the very gondolas they just ride in once sat, hops on just his toes over the top of them, launching himself up and over the water with one as a launching start. He pole-vaults across the expanse, tucks his knees and swings over the edge of the bridge, landing himself in the middle of the last few people running for safety.

“You okay?” He rushes to help a man to standing when he lands, is met with many stares, yet appreciative looks, as he ushers them out with caring hands, forgetting for a moment what he was wearing. This shit was worse than 3D glasses.

“Go, go!” He can hear the water monster approaching, clanging back as he pushes one last person out of the way before—

He’s flung back, a sudden surge of water flying over the bridge and taking Ricky with it.

It’s an unfamiliar feeling, nothing at all like swimming, ducking your head under water and trying to outlast Nini in the community pool, seeing who can hold their breath the longest. All the air is knocked out of his lungs as the wave crashes over him, water drenching him head to toe. He’s fallen, his head hitting the back of the bridge and his feet kicking out in front of him. He barely registers his surroundings, arms flailing as he gasps, tries to breathe, _just breathe_.

Only, he actually does just that. Breathes, uninterrupted. The water monster’s next blow never comes.

Ricky blinks back the stinging water in his eyes long enough to hop to his feet, and catch a glimpse of something, something that looks like lasers, green and bright, shooting into the side of the water monster in front of him.

He hears the crowds of people he’s pushed back behind him.

“Up there!”

“Who is that?”

“Oh my…”

Ricky finds his footing and follows their gasps of awe. And maybe it really isn’t Ricky’s movie to swoop in and save after all.

This hero, real life and 3D, has their shit together, Ricky thinks. Cape and all. _A cape!_ Ricky follows that red cape as this _hero_ shoots green lasers at the water monster, retreating it away from the center of the square. The waves almost settle as the cloaked figure attempts, and half succeeds at working their enemy into a corner. The flying man swoops under the water, around a wave, and gets to work again, even as the water rises.

_What the hell?_

It knocks them into a building, and Ricky scrambles on his feet up the side of it clinging to the roof to get a better view. The caped hero his still flying, still fighting, and Ricky notices now they wear metallic gloves, and a helmet reminiscent of a crystal ball, billowing green smoke filling up a glass spree where a head should be. The water monster grows, and there’s more lasers, their effects looking only marginally more useful than Ricky’s webs.

The guy could use help, he’s sure, but what he’s not sure about it how Ricky can provide that.

“Excuse me! Uh, sir? I can help! Let me help!” Ricky yells, hopes this mysterious figure can hear him, his fingertips gripped to the roof of the building that’s slowly crumbling under the water’s pressure, “I’m really strong, and uh, also sticky!”

No points for eloquence, that’s for sure. Surprisingly enough though, it works.

“I need you to lead it away from the canal!” Their voice is low and muffled by the fishbowl over their head, but Ricky hears the message loud and clear, and springs up to help.

He jumps on top of the roof and waves over his head, “Hey, Mr. Water, sir! Over here!”

He dives across the canal, rolls up to standing when he lands on the adjacent roof, feels the pull of the foundation start to crumble and before he can let himself tumble with it, shoots a web and swings to yet another roof. Water crashes into the bridge he was just on, and follows Ricky through the narrow canals and between the leaning buildings. Ricky doesn’t think, he just runs, _leads_ , leads this thing away from people. He pushes at the mask on the bridge of his nose, the elaborate carnival bells on his forehead bouncing and he bounds across another roof. He backflips over another bridge, webs through one window, catches a falling side panel with another web and swings upright. He only breathes once in the whole sequence, when he sees Red pushing his class behind a building.

Good. This is good. Keep leading it away, Ricky thinks, before his breath is over.

He runs across the siding, flies through the air and hopes his web catches something, anything when he takes a leap of faith across another opening. The master laser-shooter catches up to him, as the waves catch around a leaning bell tower. He loses sight of the other hero just as the bell tower starts to fall, Ricky climbing up one side and flinging his webs out on either side to try to pull it up.

“Ah!” Ricky yells, pulling every bit of strength he can muster into swinging this bell tower around and away from the buildings. He blinks his eyes open for a second, catches the caped man’s lasers taking on a triangular shape as he fends off the water monster successfully.

Could you kick water’s ass? Because, it sure seems like you can now.

Ricky can feel his beet red face as he struggles with this tower, and prays for like, the eighty-seventh time today that someone out there is on his side, because this is more 3D action than head ever bargained for. And it’s seriously lacking the awesome.

With one final blow, master man swings their arms out, and within mere seconds, the water monster falls apart, splits into two, and splashes back into ground level waves.

“Oh my god!”

“Who is that?”

Ricky releases his grip on the tower, crashing it into an empty side street, his body slipping on the smooth surface under the old, solid bell.

“Shit!” Ricky rubs at his head, his tiny jingle bells echoing under bell he’s just crashed into, sucking in a large breath. Tourists and townspeople, deeming it finally safe as the water settles, flock out of hiding and changer their screams into cheers. Joy erupts around the square, and all for laser-man. Ricky shuffles to his feet and jumps to the top of the rubble, trying to gain a view of the man who took over the plot of his pseudo-action movie again.

With little fanfare, the new hero waves over the small crowd that has formed once, then picks up their long red cape, and flies up and away.

Ricky runs back towards the center of the square, where he’d last seen Red pushing his class out of view, and tries his best to do a headcount, the mask still itching at his face.

Red, Nini, Carlos, EJ, Ashlyn, Seb, Howie, Gina— _shit_. The necklace.

Ricky pulls at the straps of his backpack hanging limply, soaked, on his shoulders, and opens the largest zipper compartment, fishing for the small white bag. God, Ricky thinks, if this water monster not only tried to kill him, but also his very limited romantic assets—

He sinks back with a sigh, the black dahlia necklace resting in his hands, all in one piece.

His dad really had the right idea about this 3D stuff. Some things truly should never be allowed to change.

* * *

“Aliens, it has to be.”

“Aliens?”

“What do you think it is, Caswell?”

“Witchcraft.”

Ashlyn’s answer is so matter of fact, that had Ricky not seen the thing up close and personal, he might have believed her.

“Oh what, were you not asking me?” She blinks back when the crowd remains silent, “Right, well I know for a fact whatever is about to come out of the other Caswell’s mouth is not going to be a better explanation than mine.”

“One of my fans sent me a link to this article that said it was sailor, Morris Trench, who was exposed to an experimental underwater generator and got _hydro powers_ ,” EJ leans back in his chair on the opposite side of the crowded hotel lobby, squinting his eyes at his phone screen.

“Yeah, so more on that witchcraft, Ash?”

“I’m sorry, did you say _one of your fans_?” Carlos squeaks.

“Yeah, one of my fans,” the senior boasts, “I have over twelve thousand followers, and I’m vlogging my experiences here for them.”

“That includes the near-death ones?”

“Where did you find that article?”

“Buzzfeed.”

“Oh yeah, so obviously reputable,” Gina shrugs, her eyebrows bouncing on her forehead. EJ glares once before returning his glance to his phone.

“I don’t think my fans would send me unreliable news…”

“Can you stop calling them your fans?” Ricky runs a hand through his hair before pursing his lips shut tight, not realizing he had let that one slip out loud, the day’s stress catching up to him.

“You’re right, I am so sorry Ricky, I know this is a foreign concept to you: people liking you,” EJ nods condescendingly, his voice drifting as the news on the lobby TV starts a reel of the same footage they’ve been glued to for the past hour, more looping shots of hydro-man. EJ scoffs, readjusting his chair and placing his phone in his lap, “Spider-Man could have taken him.”

Ricky has to bite the inside of his cheek from screaming. What a foreign concept.

Nini finds a spot next him, her shoulder bumping his where he stands around the side of the staircase, on the edge of the action, “So, whenever you wanna say it, I’m all ears…”

“Say what?” Ricky leans down to her and out of the busy chatter of the class for the moment.

“Nina Salazar-Roberts, my besetest friend in the world, I should have listened to you, you _are_ smart and _do_ have my best interests at heart, and come to think of it, _I will_ let you into the secret Spider-Man club with Red!”

“How long you been sitting on that one, Neens?”

“Since the day I found out,” she shrugs, but it’s laced with a laugh, “I am a more competent accomplice that Big Red.”

“Are you?” Ricky squints, “And is accomplice the right word?”

“Like you even know any words that are more than three syllables.”

“Spider-Man is three syllables,” Ricky offers, and Nini nudges him again.

“You should have brought the suit,” she’s insistent, “What if you got hurt?”

“You know it’s made of like, sweatshirt material and leftover drama department spandex, right?” Ricky looks down at her, “Plus, what did you want me to do, yell up ‘hey, Mr. Hydro-man, gimme like, five minutes, I’m gonna go into that alleyway and change into my suit, then we can fight? Just wait for me before you go killing anyone, okay? Okay, cool.’”

“How long have _you_ been sitting on _that_?”

“I keep a running dialogue in my head when I fight, helps me focus.”

“Right,” Nini nods again, “You _are_ okay though, right?”

“I am okay.”

“Like physically _and_ mentally, you know what my moms are always saying, your mental health—”

“I’m good, Neens,” Ricky sighs, knotting the strings of his hoodie, “Had some help, so, could’ve been worse.”

“Yeah, who was that guy?” She questions, her face lighting up, “Oh, don’t tell me… It was that uh, Mr. Strange.”

“Doctor Strange, Nini,” Ricky taps his toes on top of hers, “How am I gonna let you in the Spidey Squad if you talk like that.”

“I don’t wanna join a Spidey Squad,” she balks, twisting her eyebrows together, “God, you need a cooler name.”

“Red has a list somewhere.”

“Speaking of lists…” she sings, “How’s it going? We on step 3 yet?”

“It’s a plan, not a list,” Ricky clarifies, a defensive bite in his voice as he starts to blush, “And no, no it’s going horribly.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It is,” Ricky looks up and across the room, where Gina sits, her knees tucked up, laughing at something Howie’s leaned over and whispered to her, “Some major setbacks. Totally unrelated to giant water monsters and floating crystal ball heads.”

“Don’t overthink it,” Nini smiles reassuringly, “You’re a total catch.”

“Which is why you wouldn’t date me in sixth grade.”

“No one should have dated you in sixth grade, you smelled,” she winces, “But you don’t smell now.”

“You sure now a way to a man’s heart, Neens.”

“Mmm, like dirty canal water and spider-webs,” she hums, “It’ll work out.”

“Did we pack deodorant?”

“We?”

“You basically packed for me.”

“God, I hope Gina’s type is morons,” Nini pats Ricky’s cheek gently.

“I cannot believe we are still friends, all you do is bully me.”

“What can I say, I spent a lot of time with EJ today while you were off saving Venice from total collapse,” she shrugs, “No canals in Paris, which we hit tomorrow, so you should be good.”

“Do you think I should still do it?” Ricky purses his lips, nervously, “The necklace and all that stuff?”

“Yeah, leave the heroics to Mr. Strange for the night and go flirt your super little heart out,” she pushes him up off the ledge they’re leaning on and towards the staircase opposite them.

“Doctor Strange, Nini, _Doctor_ Strange.”

“Same difference,” she hums, leaving him and finding a chair at the small table between Ashlyn and EJ. Ricky settles himself against the bannister of the staircase as he tries to collect his thoughts, and resumes a spot in the bustle of his classmates’ conversation.

“Who is that guy?” Ashlyn squints up at the TV as the news flashes a new clip, this time, of the red-cape green-lasers figure that had saved them today.

“He’s like, Iron Man and Thor rolled into one,” Howie says, watching the screen in awe, obviously impressed (it’s not like Ricky’s actively trying to hate the guy, not when he makes it this _easy_.)

“Eh, he’s alright,” EJ shrugs, tapping at the tattered tablecloth, “He’s no Spider-Man.”

“What is it with you and Spider-Man?” Gina laughs, leaning back on the step she’s sitting on.

“What? He’s just awesome. He protects our neighborhood and it’s inspiring, he inspires me to be a better man,” EJ states, as if reciting a fact. He nods when he notices Ricky has entered the space, “Sup nerd, thought you drowned?”

“We just spoke, like, three minutes ago,” Ricky shakes his head at the older boy.

“Sorry, I can’t hear you over the sounds of my fans,” EJ waves his phone at him, “Thirteen thousand now.”

“Aren’t you lucky,” Ricky bites.

He turns his attention back to the screen that everyone else has been attentive to, oblivious to EJ and Ricky’s minor (and commonplace) spat, and wishes he listened to Nini (also commonplace) about learning more Italian vocabulary.

“I think they’re saying their name is Mysterio,” Howie says.

“ _Uomo di mistero_ is Italian for man of mystery, they don’t actually know who he is,” Gina clarifies, and Ricky smiles, crossing his arms and leaning against the end of the bannister.

“Or if he’s even a he,” Carlos points.

“Still it’s a—”

“—cool name.”

“Babe.”

“Babe!”

Ricky laughs at his best friend and Ashlyn, giggling with each other over their overlapping sentences. And seriously, as far as things changing goes, this one might be the lowest blow. Red specifically came here to be a bachelor and settled down before the plane even did. And here Ricky was, fighting an evil natural element and his very evil, awful, life-consuming crush.

In case it was not clear, he was still not handling it well.

You can make the boy super but… no actually. You probably could not make this boy super at all.

Ricky looks down at Gina, watches her curls bounce over one shoulder as she plays with the hem of her shirt.

Don’t overthink it, Ricky.

“So, how much of that did you actually see?” He points to the TV, tries smiling a little.

She smiles a little too, “Uh, not much, I was uh, busy. Running.”

Okay, maybe think about it a _little_ more.

“Right, right yeah, me too, I was also running,” Ricky nods, crossing his arms over his chest, “Away, far away from that, the uh, from the water.”

“EJ’s joking aside, I was kind of worried about you.”

“Really?” Ricky practically jumps at the phrase, before he remembers you should not smile at the mention of _drowning_ , “I mean, uh, really?” He asks again, more delicately this time.

“No yeah, I uh, I couldn’t find you,” Gina nods, “You were right next to me when the first wave hit and then…”

“Right it was uh, crowded, lots of people.”

God, this could not be going any worse. Gina shifts nervously in her seat, perched on the edge of the step, and Ricky tries to will himself to say something, tell her he was worried about her too! Show her you care! You’re compassionate! And thoughtful! And not a big fat spider-webbing liar!

“So, uh, Paris tomorrow,” good lord, his delivery sucks, “Eiffel Tower, should be great.”

“Yeah, I read it was secretly built as a mind control antenna to create an army of the insane.”

Ricky blinks, rocking back on his heels. Holy shit he was like, in love with her.

“Oh.”

Are you there god, it’s me, Ricky? I’m not asking for much, just one conversation where I have something intelligent to say to this girl. Please. That’s all. One conversation.

“Which is why it’s my favorite destination on the whole trip.”

“Huh,” Ricky shrugs, his sigh kind of breathy and full of all the awe he feels for this girl, all her quirks and wonderfulness. She’s so real and rare and—

Has he been staring too long? It’s been too long right? No totally, too long, creepy, duh. He bites back his smile and turns his eyes away just as she does, training them instead on his muddy shoelaces.

He hears her giggle and turns his eyes back towards her, “You know I actually tried to take a picture of it?”

“What?”

“Like I was EJ Caswell or something,” she shakes her head, “I still had my camera out, thought you’d laugh if I got a picture of it.”

“Of the water monster?”

“No, all the people in crisis,” she giggles again, “People are much more interesting that way.”

“Well we should hang out more then,” Ricky leans up on his toes, turning to face her again, “Crisis tends to follow me.”

“Yeah, I see that,” she smiles, “I was alone with you in the plane for two minutes and the canal water came to life.”

Ricky winces playfully, and Gina continues laughing, the sound bubbling up something sweet Ricky hasn’t felt in the air around him post-crisis in quite some time. He asks, “So, did you get the picture?”

“Lost the camera in a stampede over the bridge,” she shrugs, “But don’t worry, you can become number thirteen thousand and one and relive all the crisis you want on EJ’s story.”

“Thirteen thousand and one, just what I always wanted to be.”

“You always wanted to be thirteen thousand and one?” Gina shakes her head, “Classic Bowen.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Thought you would have wanted to be like, I don’t know…”

“Thirteen thousand and two?”

“Hell, dream big, thirteen thousand and three,” she smiles, settling back into her seat.

When his laughter subsides, Ricky offers a quiet, “I’m sorry about your camera. I still have the one you gave me, it’s up in my room, I can go get—”

“Don’t worry,” she waves him off with one hand, then taps it to her forehead, “I’ve got it all up here.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, you know what, hold still,” she squares her shoulders to him, her tongue peeking out of the corner of her lips in concentration, one tuft of hair flopping over her forehead. She raises her hands to her face her fingers making two corners of a square, then she scrunches her nose and _clicks_ , “Oh yeah, that one’s a keeper.”

He giggles at her antics, and wants to follow her anywhere, be any number to her, one, two, thirteen thousand, he’s not picky.

“I’m gonna take you up on that offer,” she smiles as she stands, brushes off imaginary dirt from her pants and starts to walk over to the table Ashlyn and Red sit at.

“What offer?”

“Hanging out with you more.”

And well, when the butterflies hit and Ricky barely flinches, it’s a comfort. Something hasn’t changed.

* * *

The excitement from the day finally settles, and every student has officially confirmed with their families at home that yes, an unexplainable water monster tried to kill us in Venice today but no, we don’t wanna leave. Ricky pads up the small, rickety staircase and towards the small room at the end of the hallway he’s sharing with Red.

“Dude, what are you gonna do about the water monster?”

Ricky pulls the door open with one hand and gestures his friend inside, shaking his head with a masking smile on his face, “Nothing, it’s dead! And besides, that Mysterio person is all over it!”

His chipper delivery doesn’t do much to convince Red as he follows him into the room. Once inside, Ricky grabs his toothbrush and tosses it between one hand, Red heading towards his own side of the room.

“I guess.”

“Look, I just wanna spend some time with Gina,” Ricky squeezes a bit of toothpaste onto the end of his brush, “We were talking about Paris and I don’t know. I think she might _actually_ like me.”

“That’s nice, reminds me of when Ashlyn and I first fell in love. Red smiles, standing at one end of his bed as Ricky ducks down to wet his toothbrush, rolling his eyes in the process at his friend’s dramatics, “I had just finished the free cookie they gave us on the plane and—“

“And what? She offered you hers and you knew it was true love?” Ricky says teasingly, picking his head up to smirk at Red in the reflection of the small mirror. But when he does look up, he’s not smiling. Slowly, he turns to see Red on lis left passing out onto his bed with a resounding thud.

What the—

“You are a very difficult person to contact, Spider-Man.”

Ricky jumps out of his skin at the sound of the new voice in his room, and whips around on instinct to the opposite corner to find—

“Mazzara?” He waves the toothbrush in his hand, pointing it accusatorially (but mostly confused), “You’re— you know— what— and you just shot Red?”

“Mild tranquilizer, he’ll be alright,” the teacher (if he even _is one_ , Ricky thinks to himself) crosses his arms over his chest after waving his previous action off with a shrug, “So good to finally meet you.”

Ricky back up, presses himself as close to the sink as he can get, Mazzara sitting on a chair against the opposite wall, smiling like he knows something Ricky doesn’t. The man continues when Ricky offers nothing in conversation over than his heavy breathing, “I’ve seen you around school, obviously, but I don’t usually make a habit of exchanging numbers with students in the hallways of a high school. Plus, you’re a _drama kid_.”

“Well, actually my friends kinda forced me into that,” Ricky nods, “Also it would have been very inappropriate.”

“That’s what I just said.”

“Right.”

Good to know Ricky isn’t only horrific at talking to pretty girls, but the entire human race! Consistency is key, folks.

“The important thing is that you’re here—”

“I’m sorry, can I…” Ricky shifts his weight on his feet, looking nervously to Red before glancing back up at Mazzara, “Why are you here? This is a drama trip, and you’re a science teacher who hates the drama club and you _tranquilized my best friend_.”

The man shifts forward in his seat and extends one hand out with a sigh, “Benjamin Mazzara, Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“Oh my god,” Ricky blinks, but makes no motion to move. _S.H.I.E.L.D.?_ The director of S.H.I.E.L.D. was his _science teacher_? “So, you’re not actually a science teacher?”

“I took the job a few years ago as a part of a mission, stuck around when Spider-Man came onto the scene,” Mazzara says so simply, like this information isn’t supposed to be blowing Ricky’s mind, “I’ve been trying to get in contact with you for quite some time, Mr. Bowen, but you’ve made it increasingly difficult. Finally, I decided to take matter in my own hands, and get myself listed as a chaperone on this trip.”

“Oh, uh, sorry—”

“Dodged sixteen of my calls in one day!”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have used a creepy unknown phone number.”

“And instead slip your superhero orientation packet in with your C+ tests?”

“I don’t—I don’t get C+es on your tests.”

“Like I said, the only important thing is that we are here,” Mazzara sits back in his chair, his tranquilizer still perched on top of his lap, “Avoided me and you’re still here. What a coincidence.”

“Wait,” Ricky squints, whispering “Was this a coincidence?”

“I used to know everything. But in the past five years, everything has changed,” he says, his sigh heavy with something Ricky can’t quite place, “I don’t know anything now. I’ve got no intel, no team… and a high school kid is dodging my calls.”

Ricky drops his toothbrush in the sink when Mazzara waves him over, leans forward and places a small device on the low table between them that suddenly lights up. He looks worriedly over at Red, who is still fast asleep face-down on the bed, the boy not flinching the slightest at the commotion. He snores loudly before Mazzara begins.

“Here’s what I do know,” Mazzara starts, “A week ago, a village in Mexico was wiped out by a cyclone. Witnesses say that cyclone had a face.” Ricky stares at the glowing screen that has appeared in front of him, showing footage of the wreckage his teacher explains, “Three days later, a similar event in Morocco, a village was—”

Suddenly there’s a knock on the room’s door, still slightly perched ajar where Ricky hasn’t shut it when walking in. His heart sinks to his chest and he jumps, squaring his shoulders directly to the door, willing himself to be a _good actor_ for once.

“Ricky, honey, how are you?” Miss Jenn is at the door, clapping her hands sweetly at Ricky, “Just making the rounds, seeing if anyone needs some, emotional counseling after today’s dramatic events.”

“You mean, traumatic?”

“That’s not what I said,” she laughs, and Ricky tenses when he sees Mazzara shift in his seat, and aim his tranquilizer ta the ready.

“Well uh, no, no we are fine, super good in here,” Ricky juts an exaggerated thumbs up at her, and she smiles brightly.

“Okay great, because I’m actually not qualified to do that—” she is cut off by the sound of another snore from Big Red on the bed, and she stutters, “Oh my, okay, well, I’ll leave you boys. Good night!” With a chipper wave, she shuts the door behind her.

Ricky lets out a long deep breath, “Miss Jenn doesn’t know about you?”

“You think that woman is trustworthy in any way whatsoever?”

“No but still, you were gonna shoot a tranquilizer dart at her?” Ricky yelps, crossing back over to where Mazzara sits.

“Don’t pretend you haven’t thought about it, I saw you on that plane, Mr. Bowen,” the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents points, resting his gun back in his lap, “Now, I was saying… A village was destroyed by may well be another world threatening—”

Another knock. Ricky bites his lip and steps in front of Mazzara’s chair, blocking the line of tranquilizer dart fire. Just in case.

Ashlyn’s soft voice floats from the other side of the door, “Reddie, you okay? You haven’t been answering my texts!”

“Uh, he’s asleep, Ashlyn!” Ricky yells.

“Oh, already?”

“Mhm, yeah,” he nods nervously, hearing her hum of understanding as she, assumingly, walks away.

Mazzara bites his lip and tries again, “That’s why it’s imperative—”

“Hey boys, that canal water today was filled with dangerous bacteria—”

“Another person touches that door and you and I are gonna have a funeral to plan,” Mazzara angrily grips his device from the table and stashes it back into an oversized black bag, “Suit up.”

“What?” Ricky follows Mazzara as he packs his belongings and heads towards the door, “I don’t, I didn’t bring my suit.”

“Good god, I have to do everything,” the man mumbles under his breath, then pulls a small mask out of his mystery bag and tosses it towards Ricky, “You know, for Mike Bowen’s kid, you sure are—”

“You knew my dad?” Ricky pales, rooted in his place at the mention of his dad’s name from the teacher/undercover superhero agent. What the hell was in the water here? Much more than _bacteria,_ he’s sure.

Mazzara huffs a long sigh, “I’ll explain it on the ride over, put that mask on for now until we get your suit situation figured out, so now one spots you as we leave.”

“We’re leaving,” Ricky looks down at his flannel pajamas and the small mask in his hands, “Wait, what if someone sees you? Aren’t you supposed to be chaperoning?”

“I am, I’m chaperoning you to our headquarters.”

“But Miss Jenn—”

“Can even chaperone herself. She’ll never notice,” he shakes his head, steps swiftly towards the doorway, “meet me behind the hotel in five minutes. This won’t take long, no one will even notice we left.” And with one final snore from Red, Mazzara shuts to door.

Ricky uses 4 out of his five minutes on freaking out.

* * *

You’d never recognize the canals they’re currently on from the way they’d looks this afternoon, wrecked and overflowing waters now tranquil in the calm air of the night. They had made it out undetected, much to Ricky’s surprise. He half believed Mazzara might have just tranquilizer darted everyone on their way out, but the exit was was and went unnoticed. He guesses nothing seems really crazy after water comes to life. Ricky taps his feet nervously in his seat next to Mazzara. He hasn’t said much since they left, and Ricky is fighting back about a million questions for the man.

Unprompted, the teacher breaks the silence, “You father left these for you.”

Ricky tilts his chin up at the mention of his dad, and sees Mazzara hold out to him a small glasses case.

“Really?”

“Said you might fight me on wearing them, but eventually you’d get over it,” and Ricky notices there might even be a smile on Mazzara’s face.

Ricky opens the case carefully and thumbs at the delicate glasses in side. They look like oversized sunglasses, big silver rims and half shaded lenses, inside a pretty mundane looking Stark Industries case. His head was spinning with questions, more than before which he didn’t think was even possible, but he just keeps coming back to that memory of the 3D Lego movie glasses tickling the bridge of his and his dad’s noses. He smiles, and closes the case, clutching it to his chest.

“Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown,” Mazzara says, turning his eyes down, “Mike said you wouldn’t get that ‘cause it wasn’t a Star Wars reference.”

Ricky laughs with him, settling in his seat. He hasn’t watched a Star Wars movie in years, but the memory is a fond one, chasing his dad around their kitchen with a to light saber.

“Though I think he’d be surprised, you’ve done a lot of growing up since the last time I’ve seen you, think you might be able to handle a metaphor.”

“What was, um, the last time?” Ricky asks nervously, hoping to capitalize on Mazzara’s sudden nostalgic mood and get some answers.

“Your dad was my partner in the field since the day we started at S.H.I.E.L.D. Worked together for years, best team in the game,” he smiles fondly, “But then he had you and suddenly, he wanted a desk job.”

“My dad was an agent? Like actually?” Ricky blinks.

“Best of ‘em, kid,” Mazzara sighs, “He started developing tech with Stark Industries so he could have better hours, take care of you after you mom left. But we still teamed up from time to time.”

“He always told me he trained superheroes, I thought he was just trying to sound cool…”

“Well, you’re a superhero now, and he raised you, so,” he shrugs, and Ricky feels something warm and familiar flutter in his chest, “I have never met a man as _good_ as your father. He just, he always knew the right thing to do, and would do it, no matter the cost.”

Ricky is shocked by the robotics teacher’s sudden outpouring of emotion, it is rare, almost strange, but comforting, since Ricky almost always feels this way about his dad. It’s nice to find someone who shares it.

“Can I ask you a question, Mr. Mazzara?”

“I have a feeling you’d ask it even if I said no, so sure,” he tilts his head, smiles lightly.

“Do you ever think about, I don’t know, if you could have done something different?” Ricky doesn’t voice any context, but judging by the man’s frown, the message is clear.

“Every goddam day, Ricky,” he shakes his head, “You were just a kid, I couldn’t— I wanted to find you, tell you not to do just that, to think about all you could have done differently, because we work ourselves in circles. But I’ve never— You’re not a mission, and I didn’t know how to treat you like anything else. So I just tried to stay close, took jobs only if they were in the city, started working at the high school. I promised I’d look out for you. Please, forgive me for not doing a better job of that.”

Ricky is speechless, lets the calming wash of the water beneath them fill the silence as the boat docks next to a brown building, one he assumes must be the headquarters.

“World’s been different in so many ways since we lost him. I know you feel it. And these monsters we’re fighting are just the surface,” Mazzara stands and starts walking them inside, Ricky trailing behind, “We’re pooling all our resources to put an end to this.”

“And you really think I can help you?” Ricky says nervously, “I have no training, no suit, all I know how to do is swing between buildings.”

“You’re Mike Bowen’s kid, you are capable of more than you know,” Mazzara nods down to the glasses case, “ _He_ knew it.”

Ricky remains pretty unsure as they head inside, ducking under low archways and through dark corridors, following Mazzara’s assuring trail.

“Where are we going?”

“Didn’t I already tell you, headquarters, for this operation,” Mazzara turns back, “You can take the mask off, kid. Everyone in here has seen you without it.”

“Who is in there?”

“You ask a lot of questions.”

“They are valid questions, really,” Ricky says, exasperatedly as Mazzara rounds the corner, but he pauses and pulls the mask off anyway. It’s then that he gets a good view of the space. Rows of people dressed like Mazzara, lines of computers and tech Ricky doesn’t even have a name for, teams buzzing in and out and between each other, chattering under dimmed lights. What has he stepped into.

“C’mon,” Mazarrra calls him, and Ricky skips to pick up him pace, “Some people I’d like you to meet before we get started.”

“Oh my god, you didn’t tell me,” Ricky whisper yells at Mazzaras back, looking down, “You didn’t tell me we were working with other people. I’m still in my _pajamas,_ dude.”

“Do not call me dude,” the man blinks, “Ricky, this is Dmitry.” Ricky’s attention is directed towards a man to his left who holds what looks lie Mazzara had used to knock Red out in the hotel, but ten times bigger, He gulps and turns away.

“And this is Dana,” Mazzara starts, “Though, I assume she needs no introduction from me.”

Ricky jumps when he sees her, Dana Salazar, Nini’s mom, real actual _mom_ standing in front of him in a black suit to match Mazzara’s, “Dana, what are you— this is—” He clutches a hand to his chest, flailing to keep his poorly kept secret in tact again.

“Hi Ricky, good to see you,” she smiles, twisting in her seat at a computer, “You know, I didn’t believe Ben when he said he was bringing you here, since you and Nini _promised_ to call me when you landed in Venice and,” she tosses her cell phone between her hands, “I’m _still_ waiting.”

Ricky rubs a hand behind his neck sheepishly, “Uh, sorry. I—”

“I’ll let it slide since it seems you were preoccupied,” she smiles, and starts to head back to work, but Ricky’s mouth is still gaping in shock. What is it with the adults in his life dropping their double lives on him and acting like the world can just keep spinning?

“I’m sorry, you knew about me? This whole time?”

“Moms know everything, Ricky,” she nods.

“So Nini? Telling me to bring the suit, that was you?”

“No, no, Nini has no idea we know, that was her own idea,” she shakes her head, “She really wants to be a part of your little superhero team.”

“Oh my god.”

“It’s _cute_ ,” she hums, “Carol offered to send it over for us, but when I saw what it was made of? I’m not letting you both there in that ever again. I’ve got a new suit in the works, will have it ready for you by tomorrow.”

“Uh, thanks?” Ricky blinks as Mazzara pulls him forward, a thousand more questions still on his tongue. As they continue to walk up the corridor, Ricky looks up at Mazzara, “When were you gonna mention Nini’s moms worked with you too?”

“I just did,” the man says flatly, “Now, c’mon, time to meet your new partner.”

“My what?”

Mazzara nods towards the center console of the room, where the caped figure from the water monster fight stands, their back towards them. The long red cape swishes to the floor, the gold-plated gloves pointing at something Ricky cannot see. He lets out an audible gasp, the hero more incredible in person.

“Mysterio?”

“What?”

“Nothing, it’s just, what my friends are calling him,” Ricky shakes his head, Mazzara entering the room.

“Good evening everyone, let’s get to work,” Mazzara walks slowly around the edge of the room, leaving Ricky dumbstruck in the doorway. This was like, real life superhero stuff. Not stopping muggings or helping cats out of trees. He shudders at the thought, squeezes the glasses case in his hands for reassurance.

“Everyone, this is Ricky, also known as Spider-Man, He’ll be helping us out here,” Mazzara points, and Ricky shifts on his feet nervously.

The caped figure slowly starts to turn around, their stance directly opposite when Ricky stands awkwardly in the doorway. They bring their hands up to the glowing glass bowl on their head, and slowly start to remove it.

“Ricky, nice to see you again.”

“Oh, uh, thanks, you too,” Ricky squints, watching the set their large mask/helmet down on the table behind them, then turning fully to face Ricky.

And there is not a single trick in the book that could help him with this one.

_“Mom?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't sure where else to put this where everyone could see it, but I'm hoping most of the people who read my other fics have made it here to see this: just wanted to thank you all for your kind words on my last story. I cannot quantify how incredible your words ade me feel, especially in this difficult time (school has really been beating me down, and you made me feel so smart and talented). so thank you thank you thank you! for loving not only this story but my others. It means so much.
> 
> ALSO!!! I just finished the semester and am bored out of my mind!!!! I also really want to be friends with you guys, and with all this free time i have no more excuses to put this off.... so i made a twitter! (pls be my friend, please, i have no one to talk to about this disney channel ship that's consumed my life in my house and need something to do!)
> 
> i'm unoriginal so it's just @peculiarblue (the first l is a capital i) and i have not followed anyone on there yet, but i'm working on setting it up (i made it like, 3 minutes before this chapter was posted) come say hi! give me ideas to write!
> 
> anyway, stay safe and lots of love!


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